


Ghost Stories

by pumpkinsake



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Blood and Violence, Comfort/Angst, Drug Dealing, Flashbacks, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2018-12-09 13:17:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 52,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11669889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinsake/pseuds/pumpkinsake
Summary: After an accident nearly a year before, Hanzo has become a spirit trapped within the small apartment he shares with his brother while his body lies comatose in a hospital. Despite all  Genji's attempts to bring back the past and wake his brother from his coma, Hanzo can't remember anything before the accident. He has forgotten friends, family, and anything he held dear. Until the one he held the most comes back to help him remember.





	1. Chapter 1

For the first time in months, the apartment was immaculate. Genji never cleaned because people were not allowed in his home at the request of his brother. The only drawback to Hanzo's rule: Genji never did any housework. Hanzo chastised him all the time. There was nothing he could do about it, being dead and all for months now. Not dead, but in a coma, in some strange spirit purgatory. Might as well be dead, though. He lived as a spirit in the small confinement of their apartment for a little under a year now. “Is there something happening that I am unaware of?” Hanzo questioned from the spot in the middle of their kitchen. On the counter rested two cups of tea. Genji always made two out of habit, despite knowing his brother would never drink it. Today both cups settled cold. “Genji.”

“No, brother,” the younger of the two mumbled, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He busied himself with making sure to tuck all the couch cushions into place. Not hanging off the edge as he usually left them after passing out in the living room instead of his own bed. Take out containers cleaned from the table, dirty socks and shirts pulled from the floor. Even went out of his way to dust a few shelves loaded with Hanzo's old books. College books, elaborate fiction novels, art history texts, various other study materials. Half filled journals, binders of letters, old classwork. He read them all long before the accident. No one touched them since.

Hanzo stood straight in the center of the kitchen, staring towards the abandoned cups of tea. Genji must have made them two hours ago, but was so occupied with cleaning as fast as possible that he hadn't taken a sip. What a waste. “You are cleaning after all my months of reprimanding?” Genji said nothing, his attention all over the living room. Pictures from their college years and childhood adorned the walls. Faces Hanzo looked at every day, but never remembered. Genji told him stories of these people they once knew, but come sunrise, he forgot their names. He remembered nothing before the accident. And asking his brother to tell stories again grew old. “This is not about something you already informed me of?”

“No, brother,” Genji repeated, staring at the gathering of photos in a larger frame. Friends he long since let go. Those who moved on when he became occupied with his brother's accident. Not because they didn't want to hang out, but because he focused all his energy on Hanzo. Difficult explaining that he spent his days retelling stories to his comatose brother. It seemed futile, but he refused to give up. “Do you remember any of these today?”

Hanzo sighed, knowing the answer. Standing before those frames, the tack board full of ticket stubs and random receipts. Polaroids, a sympathy card, a fortune from a cookie with a phone number scribbled on the back. He wanted to call the number to see who picked up. But he couldn't. He couldn't do much as the apparition he became after the accident. Genji tried the number, the owner did not answer. “I do not,” Hanzo grunted from his spot still in the center of the kitchen, eyes on the tea cups. “Please remember your tea and tell me why you cleaned the apartment.”

Genji nodded, ducking into the kitchen to pick up his cup. He held it between his two hands with no intention of finishing it. Hanzo envied his brother's ability to hold things. To feel touch. His nerve endings damaged, his fingers faded through objects. He held no mass in this world. A gust of wind if angry enough. “Do you remember Angela? She flew through college with ease. She's a doctor now. Got married to Fareeha almost a year ago, right after your accident.” He wandered into the living room, tapping his fingers against an old wedding invitation. The RSVP card and envelope unchecked and tacked beside it. An old Polaroid featured the two women snuggled into the corner of a cozy club. Both so in love that they never noticed their heart eyes caught on camera. Hanzo felt compelled to twist the simple black band around his left ring finger. A familiar motion he was no longer capable of. He never asked about it. “I heard they were looking to adopt a child.”

“Is mother coming?” Hanzo ignored his brother's words. They wouldn't stick. He would remember nothing, as the day before. Staring at these faces wouldn't help. He couldn't point out Angela if he tried and never heard the name Fareeha. “Why did you clean the apartment?” If she were to visit, Hanzo would retreat to his room. She couldn't see him anyway. It was strange that Genji was the only one aware of his spirit. As if they shared some brother like bond that kept Hanzo in his sights. Hanzo could only watch a woman he didn't recognize cry for her eldest son who refused to arise from his coma for so long.

Genji rolled on through the memories, each brother ignoring the other. “And Lucio? So smart, so full of hope. Remember, we crashed into him during his protest in the courtyard. I don't even remember what he was standing against, but he was so confident. He led our fellow students to victory.” His dark eyed gaze fell over a pair of tickets to a show that long since passed a few months before. Sold out, but two front row seats left empty. “He's famous now. Makes music. It's very good, you should listen to it.”

“I'm sure I have before.” A pang of guilt settled into his heart. He knew Genji missed so much in his life, taking on responsibility that was not his to handle. It was not his brother's fault that Hanzo laid still in a hospital bed, hooked to fluids and monitors. The dim, quiet beep, waiting for an end. Why his family had not given up on him yet, he was not sure. It was clear he would never wake.

Genji nodded without looking towards his brother, his face solemn in thought. He looked on through the pictures, settling on one in particular. For a moment, he smiled, his attention falling to the floor. “It's a shame you never remember Jesse.”

“It is,” Hanzo agreed, no recollection of who this person was. Agreeing with his brother's comments sped the daily process of story telling along. Why waste so much of the day? “Jesse.” The name felt awkward, hard on his tongue. Like lead slipping from his lips. It was a shame he remembered nothing. It was a shame that Genji wasted his time repeating the same stories in false hope that things would get better. It had been almost a year. Almost a year, and still every day, Genji told him stories. “Don't forget your tea.” Like everything else, Hanzo had forgotten the taste of tea. Or if it were even a taste he enjoyed. Must have been if Genji went through the trouble of making him a cup every day.

“And yours,” his brother muttered to himself, drawing his attention towards a clock. A little bit before noon. “It is a shame you don't remember him. He made you very happy.”

“When was the accident? What happened?” Questions Hanzo asked often. A topic Genji didn't like to talk about. He drew forth happier things. Filled his brother's mind with good memories that only faded in the morning. Hanzo wondered if he brother even knew what happened at all. Remembering the good times hadn't helped yet, but no one told him enough of the bad to see if it were a potential cure. Or at least he felt Genji would avoid telling him.

The younger brought the edge of the cold tea cup against his lips, hesitating. “Car accident. Ten months ago.”

"Is that when I lost my legs?”

“No, that happened years before that.” Hanzo stared down towards the floor, glancing over his single prosthetic right leg. His limb missing from the left knee down. He assumed this was what he looked like at the time of the accident. Dark hair hung messy past his shoulder, his eyes always so tired, sunken bags painted below them. Old sweat pants, black muscle shirt, and a patterned blue robe. All thrown on in the heat of escape. He could not change clothes, he could not pull his hair up. He could not remove his prosthetic, and never found the other one. Every day, as the day before, he was the same. Nothing changed. He remembered nothing.

“How did I lose my legs?”

“Not sure. You were found unable to use them and...” Genji trailed off, wandering into the kitchen to dump his cold cup of tea. What a waste. He poured out the one untouched, rinsing the cups before setting them to the side of the sink. He stared firm at the kitchen clock, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I hope you can remember Jesse...” Five minutes until noon now.

“Why can't you let me go?” Hanzo wanted to ask, further ignoring his brother's statement. He wondered if he asked before, but had a feeling that Genji would avoid answering like he did other things. Almost a year with no sign of pulling through. And yet, his family held on.

“He made you very happy.”

Four minutes now.

“One day I may remember.” Jesse. Jesse... the name didn't even pull up a face in his brain. He could wander to their living room, point over pictures for hours, but nothing would come back to him. Faces meshed together, memories scattered, and Jesse would never make him happy again.

“I hope you remember soon.” Genji turned his body, leaning back against the kitchen counter. Hanzo stared at him for a long moment, stilled parked in his spot at the center of the kitchen. If needed, he could slip away through walls, through doors. He tried to take steps as he remembered them, but found himself gliding across the floor instead. The only upside to being a spirit. Locks and door handles were no hindrance, so he could escape much quicker than Genji would ever find him.

Of course, unless those walls or doors led outside the apartment. He had yet to figure out how to leave the confines of their home, even if Genji held the door open for him. As if pinned there by some unseen chain. It was good he never remembered day to day. At least the scenery always seemed somewhat new.

The smile remained on Genji's face and unease gathered in Hanzo's stomach. Nothing physical, but anxiety still troubled his spirit. “Genji, what did you do?”

“I have done nothing.” The younger brother grinned, like a cat fresh out of trouble. Three minutes now. “It would be a shame should you not remember him when the time comes.”

“That time better not be soon.” Hanzo groaned, making his way towards his bedroom. Like with his brother, no one else should have been able to see him. Genji's ability was a mystery. But being around another living being who wasn't his brother burned his soul. Filled him with rage, envy, guilt. Longing for a fulfilling life. Time outside of banishment to their apartment. He tried day after day to leave, but nothing worked.

Two minutes now.

“Chances are he won't see you. Hang here at least to see his face in the flesh. That could spark something.” Genji clenched his fists at his side, looking towards the front door. The stairwell outside of their door laid quiet, Hanzo waiting for heavy footsteps. One minute until noon. “I have never seen you happier than when you were with him. What if he can help you in ways that I cannot?”

The door handle jiggled and Hanzo's body jolted straight as a board. No hesitation in his movements, quick for escape. “Genji, I said no visitors!” he bellowed, making haste towards the bedroom. He reached out to slip through the closed wooden door leading to safety. But for the first time since banishment, he met a terrible pain when he crashed elbow and chest first into the door. He wobbled back, unfamiliar shock wracking his body. Head spinning. Physical pain. Nerves he long forgot. And during a time when he needed escape the most.

“Jesse!” Genji hollered from the living room, Hanzo panicking before his closed bedroom door. It never opened. There was no reason to open it when he slipped through without problems for months. “You found the place okay?” Still no sound, no solid footsteps, only the door closing behind the man now standing in his living room. Hanzo didn't look, he didn't want to look. Seeing the face of a man he forgot would not help. It would spark nothing. “You have changed...”

“You've changed a great deal yourself,” the man smiled back in a charming southern drawl. The deepness of his sweet voice sent a shock down Hanzo's spine. He tried to ignore the next surge through his system, fumbling at the handle. He couldn't get a grip. But there was no sliding through. Calling to Genji would only draw attention that someone else was here. The man didn't notice him yet. So he stood silent, hoping that if he leaned his body hard enough into the door, he would fall through. “You here alone?”

“Ah, no, my brother is here.” Hanzo tightened his lips, pushing his weight further into the door. Why tell him that? His brother was comatose in the hospital. This Jesse fellow had to understand that.

The long silence after Genji's words settled uneasy in Hanzo's heart. He clawed at the door handle, fingers sliding through the metal knob. But his body refused to budge. “No shit?” the other man muttered in awe, a sense of longing strangling the end of his tone. Hanzo froze. The man sounded so sad. “Can I... see him?”

No. Only Genji could see him. Even if he wanted others to see him, Genji was the only one thus far. Through some freakish bond, Genji could see him. No reason behind it. How he even had a spirit when his living, struggling body lay hooked to life support at the hospital was a mystery. How much money his family wasted keeping the shell of a man he used to be alive. Genji watched him float about the apartment, a constant reminder of his own limited life. Genji could see him. Hanzo wished he couldn't.

Genji turned the corner to the hallway, his brother bearing his forehead into the wooden door. “Genji,” Hanzo whispered, out of earshot of the man lingering in the living room. “The door, please.”

“Hanzo?” The sadness. The puppy like yearning in his smooth voice. Hanzo shivered, another unfamiliar physical sensation prickling at his skin. What was happening? He turned his attention, coming face to face with a man he had never seen before in his life. But one he wished he remembered. He was gorgeous. “You're... here.”

The man, eyes glistening with brimming tears, stared slack jawed down at Hanzo. Wild facial hair framed his jaw and chin, ruffled dark locks feathered around the base of his neck. Inches taller, he loomed over Hanzo with trembling lips, words begging to spill. But none formed looking into the eyes of the man he used to make so happy. Hanzo stared back, unable to comprehend why things were unfolding in this manner. Genji had been the only person in months who could see him. And now, this man, a stranger, saw him clear as day. What kind of bond did they share? “You're here,” Jesse breathed again, reaching his hand out to clasp them over Hanzo's cheeks.

Hanzo leaned back, although knowing that those fingers would swipe straight through him. As did everything, except the door now. “You are here,” he parroted, low and cautious, but also with fondness he didn't mean to slip. “Jesse.” The name felt natural against his lips. Moments before, it felt clunky. Unfamiliar. Distant. Now warm, inviting, and terrifying all at once.

And then, the shock.

Not the same shock of slamming straight into the hard wood. Not the shock of prickled skin upon hearing the man's voice. Actually fingertips pressing into his cheeks, made of flesh and not air. Warm, course fingertips on his left cheek. Cold metal on the right. A thumb against his lip, palm cradling his jaw. His knees felt like jelly. He didn't know why he was letting this stranger hold him like this. And in front of his brother.

His mind busied as fast as the physical shock. Images flew before him. A large walk in closet, sitting on the floor surrounded by strangers' shoes, party goers' coats. Whiskey and ice in the bottom of a red solo cup. Darkness, stuffy, hot. The lighter flickering on and off. Hands through his hair, back against the closet wall.

A forest before nightfall. Patches of light falling through openings in the tall trees above them. A small wooden shed miles in, filled with candles, snacks, books, and a tattered comforter.

That crowded bar, loud screaming in jest. Drinks shared with others, camera flashes, and loving smiles. Bodies bustled together, all focused on the television. Except the two of them. Only eyes for each other.

Gunshots. The screaming. Animal howls and cries. A trickling creek, a sharp fall. More screaming. He could hear him, but he couldn't call back.

The lonely highway bridge once walked nightly by the entwined couple. His sweaty palms against the steering wheel. The disconnected call, the panic settling in his heart. A figure, the breaks. Windshield shattering around him before everything went dark.

Hanzo snapped from his strip of memories, lips trembling as he inspected the man's face in fear. His hands were so strong, and not because one seemed formed of metal. Jesse held him as if he feared Hanzo slipping away. “Do you know,” Hanzo blurted in the second of calm in his brain, swallowing hard, eager to get out of the grasp, “that I am-”

“In a coma, yeah,” Jesse sighed, reluctant to remove his hands.

“How can you see me?”

Jesse swallowed, finally prying his fingers from the warm grasp on Hanzo's cheeks. He looked between the brothers, bunching his shoulders to keep the shaking at bay. How long did they know each other? What kind of relationship did they share? Genji did say that Jesse made him very happy. How long had it been since Jesse had seen his face? “I don't know, but I'm glad I can. I'm so happy to see you again...”

Hanzo sensed that Jesse wanted to hold him further than his face. And if he weren't so blind sided by physical feelings zipping through his body, he might let him. After no touch for months, he yearned for it in ways he didn't know until now. But more so, panic settled heavy in his heart, and he was eager to hide away in his room to sort his thoughts. The door. But the door wouldn't give way. “We should sit,” Genji offered, extending his arm towards the living room. “Talk a little bit about-”

“I do not wish to talk,” Hanzo grunted, desperate for a moment to clear his brain. Up until this point, his mind was empty. Memories didn't stick. Told the same names, the same stories day after day, with no recollection after sunset. And now, all these images, although vague and quick, filling his brain. He wanted to scream. Talking was not an option. He needed to be alone for a moment.

“It's alright, darlin', we got time,” Jesse muttered, keeping his hands at his side. Darlin'. The nickname cut straight through his heart. The tone, the drawl. Hanzo's body shivered and he looked towards Genji with the silent notion to open the door now. “Since I'm stayin' and all.”

Hanzo froze, dark eyes wide. “Pardon?”

“Jesse will stay with us. I thought it would help you,” Genji admitted with firmness in his throat, staring at his brother. He stood up straight, using the few inches he grew over him in the years to his advantage. “It will help you. The fact that he can see you is already a step in the right direction.”

“You have seen me for months!” Hanzo yelled, pushing his body away from the door. “We have gotten no where! Open this door for me immediately!” He thrust his hand towards the handle, then between the only able bodied people in this apartment. Jesse sighed, letting his hands rest against his hips. The difference of the course heat and cool touch on his cheeks resonated through his body. Touch was so foreign, and even if he didn't remember, he missed it.

Genji nodded, reaching out to twist the handle of his brother's room, throwing the door wide open. Hanzo retreated to the darkness, his brother shutting the door before he could yell back. He heard the two roll through conversation outside, only further cluttering his mind.

The image of a crowded party flooded through his memories. Angela, her beautiful blonde hair. Sweet smile. He remembered her. A strong woman with glowing tan skin and raven hair with her arms wrapped around the med student's waist. Fareeha. She offered him a drink, he refused for now. He ended up in the closet with a stranger. Loud music bumped through the house. Lucio made this track, said it would make him famous one day. Hanzo never made it out of that closet that night.

“What is happening?” Hanzo groaned to himself, standing weightless in the center of his untouched bedroom. Everything in place, layers of dust coating his items. Bed made, clothes folded. As if he didn't spend every night disassociating in the center of the carpet. Why were these memories coming now? Because this man could see him?

The room plunged into shades of gray and midnight blue that decorated his ceiling. The forest surrounded him, cold nipping at his cheeks. Nightfall descended through the trees, the moon peeking between branches. His hand, filled with the rough gloved fingers of the person leading him through the brush. The little shed, built by someone with little carpentry skill. Candles of various scents, half burnt, dribbling wax off the wooden shelves. That useless comforter thrown in a corner. The sweat building against his neck. Hands down his back, a tongue against his throat.

The hand against his neck, his knees buried into the ground. Pleas that weren't his own. A wager for his life. His legs, functional, both in place, carrying him through the forest. A misstep. A fall. Creek water filling his lungs. He couldn't feel his legs.

Hanzo pressed his palms into his temple, suppressing the screams of pain. The memories hurt. After all the pleasant thoughts Genji filled him with, memories that wouldn't spark. Couldn't start a flame. Now they tore through his brain like wildfire and he was desperate to put them out.

The chill of the creek water flooded away, replaced by the sweet cold of winter. Snow falling outside the massive bar window decorated with red and green lights. A small explosion outside, spilled drink. Laughter, happiness. A hand holding tight to his. A question he had been waiting for his entire life, although they hadn't known each other but a few years. The countdown, his friend chanting in unison. The crowd fading out, only he mattered.

The phone number on the back of the fortune. He called it. He's called it before, many times. But there was no answer this time. He ran out, grabbed the nearest thing he could find to wear, and began to drive. Searching. Panicked. Heartbroken. He twisted the black band around his left ring finger. He had to find him, he didn't answer the phone. He always picked up the phone. Hanzo was sorry. He didn't mean it.

His car slid across the empty bridge. Hanzo blacked out.

The chaos in his head settled and Hanzo became aware of the fetal position he had taken on the floor. He cradled his aching head in his hands, peering through the darkness of his room. The conversation outside his room ended and things were silent. His mind fell into the dull peace it did every day. Except he could remember. Snippets, the tips of his mind nipping at memories. Angela's smile. Lucio's music. His mother's sadness. The accident. Blips, blurbs, not enough to answer questions. But enough to realize that his brother was right. Having Jesse here did spark something.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for all the kudos. I was going to wait until Monday to post this, but thought I would go ahead and post it now while I have it finished. After Summer Games starts, I'll try my best to keep up with updating regularly, but... no promises lol

Silence fell among the two lingering in the living room. Genji sat along the edge of the sofa, staring towards his brother's room. He had much to say about the few moments that just passed, but didn't want to say anything until he saw his brother again. In all the months of sitting in this apartment, watching the spirit of his brother roam, he never saw such panic. Not being able to sweep through the door. His face when Jesse laid his hands on him. He felt something. Genji crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back into the cushy sofa with a loud sigh through his nose. He hadn't even addressed the fact that this man could see Hanzo.

Jesse stood before him, his eyes against the wall at the array of photos Genji had taken in the past. Although his young face was staring back at him, he didn't recognize many of these moments. Perhaps he had been too drunk when they were taken, or he was too wrapped up in Hanzo to remember the camera flash. Seeing a young vision of himself sparked a smile, but faltered quickly when he knew his other half was suffering in the other room. “Think I should go in there?” Jesse questioned with his hand along his hip, reaching out with the left to draw his finger over the picture.

New Years Eve, a couple years before the accident. A crowded bar, bodies bustled together as they counted down towards new ventures. Zarya accidentally spilled her drink on the cute bartender with the glasses when Jamison set off a string of small firecrackers no one realized he had. For some reason, Jesse couldn't remember the girl's name. But she was a sweetheart, with full rosy cheeks. Gave him and Hanzo a drink on the house before closing time. She was so happy for them. McCree circled his thumb over the center of the picture, tracing the outline of their bodies. With his free hand, he spun the black band against the thin gold chain hanging from his neck.

“Best to leave him be for a moment,” Genji huffed through folded hands. It was the first time Hanzo reacted so violently to any sort of memory. The look on his face that of a terrified animal, desperately seeking refuge. “He never had trouble getting through doors before. Normally he just slides on through. Through walls, too. Darts away from me until I get tired of chasing him.” He paused when he drew a concerned look from Jesse. The notion was absurd. Someone floating through walls. He spent the past ten months wondering if he lost his mind once his brother was hospitalized. If there wasn't a spirit, and he was just wishing it up. “Tell me you saw him,” he confirmed, hoping he wasn't making things up. Even though he just watched Jesse touch him, speak with him. He had to be sure.

Jesse nodded with a hard swallow, drawing his hand away from the picture. “I saw him, clear as day.”

“Having you here... I tell him of you, of many things every day but...”

“He doesn't remember.” Jesse stared towards the closed door. He nodded in understanding, despite that it didn't make sense. His breath came out heavy, frustrated. Genji noticed that the man seemed strangely calm for someone who could see the spirit of his comatose lover. Genji nearly had a heart attack himself the first time Hanzo came wafting into his room a couple days after the accident. He considered asking how it was possible, but didn't understand how he could see his brother himself. They had been close growing up, but Jesse and Hanzo grew much closer in the little time they were together. “Hopefully I can help him.”

Genji nodded solemnly. “I hope.” He perked his head up when heard a faint call from his brother's bedroom and what sounded like scratching against the door. The sound of the door knob jiggling was followed by a string of low curses. “Take a seat for me, I think he's coming back.” Jesse did as he was asked, although he felt obligated to dart towards the bedroom to help. He knew his place was better to keep still, not to scare off the man he hadn't seen in months. Standing, walking before him. He pictured him in the hospital, barely holding onto the scraps of his life. Behind tubes, wires, oxygen mask. That was not the man he knew. Although fighting, he was losing hope.

Returning to the living room, Genji slowly took his position back on the sofa. Jesse sat upright, staring into the hallway as Hanzo emerged from his room, exhausted. Although his image hadn't changed since the accident, Jesse noticed the difference. The fatigue, the darkness in his eyes. His slumped posture and shrunken form. The hopelessness. Confusion. He lingered in the hallway, his hands hanging lazily at his sides. The shock on his face as though he awoke from a nightmare. He stared first at his brother, then to the man sitting on the couch. “You alright?” Jesse questioned, his elbows resting on his knees, folded hands clasped between his legs.

A long pause filled the room. Hanzo wavered for a moment, his body uneasy as he swayed slightly to the side. As if shifting weight, although there was nothing holding him up. He licked his lips and cleared his throat, looking Jesse in the eye. “How can you see me?” he questioned, his voice low, trembling.

Jesse shrugged, shaking his head. “Not sure.” He pulled his attention away from Hanzo, briefly looking over his brother as he chewed the inside of his cheek. Like he had more to say, but he couldn't muster up the words. He wished he had more to offer. “Just glad I can.”

Another long gap of silence between the three. Hanzo had so many questions. Many similar to those he asked Genji every day of their lives. When was the accident? What happened? How did he lose his legs? Along with those, a fresh slew of questions. About the visions popping into his head, why he couldn't fly through doors anymore, the touch against his skin. Some questions he knew wouldn't receive answers. Overwhelmed again, he sighed, shutting his eyes.

“You remember anything?” Jesse questioned casually as he sat up further, letting his left hand fall between his knees. His other reached for the gold chain around his neck, fiddling with the black band between his fingers. He brought it to his lips, holding it there for a moment. Hanzo opened his eyes at the sound of metal gliding against metal. The black band, just like the one wrapped around his own left finger. Conclusions jumped into his brain and images just kept flashing through. Layering on top of one another. Faces meshing together, events flying by. The memories grew louder and louder.

“Yes, but it is so much at once that I cannot determine anything solid.” He closed his eyes again. His chest rose with the heavy breath he inhaled through his nose. He didn't see the look of hope that glimmered across his brother's face.

Jesse leaned back against the couch, still with the ring pressed against his lips. Like a nervous habit. Hanzo opened his tired eyes to watch the way he dragged the gold chain against his mouth. He thought of cigarettes, something that would also look good between his lips. Excess whiskey from the red solo cup, his own fingers when they tried to keep quiet in the middle of a houseful of people. “You remember how we met?” Jesse interrupted his thoughts with the low remark. Hanzo watched the black ring fall back into the crevasse of the man's chest, resting just on the edge of his unbuttoned collar.

Was it the closet? He tried to focus his brain on a single memory, but there was no use. When Genji told him stories, nothing would stay. This man only said a few words, and suddenly everything gathered in his mind like a swarm of bees. “I do not,” he stated although somewhere in this jumble of images was their first encounter. “Remind me.”

“I've told you before,” Genji huffed as calmly as his words would allow. “You met at-”

Jesse held up his hand towards the younger brother, shaking his head. “Don't tell him,” he muttered with heartache. His voice, although still smooth, was low, disappointed almost. Hanzo watched the way his face drooped, his brows knitted in frustration. He turned his attention away, unable to take the grief on his supposed partner's face. The memory was there, just hanging at the edge of his brain, lost in a flurry of everything else in his past. Was it really the closet? Did they meet in the closet? What an absurd place to meet, but something about that assumption felt right. Although he had a guess, he kept quiet, unwilling to throw out a comment if he were wrong. “You don't remember?”

“No.” Who was to say any of this were things from his past? He wanted to believe these were his memories and not something his brain fabricated at this stranger's touch. He needed more time to think. Things were moving too fast.

“You will,” Jesse mumbled, his words hopeful but his tone lost. “Just give it time.”

“I have given it enough time.” Jesse glanced up from where his attention was fixated on the tip of his boot. His deep eyes rolled in Hanzo's direction, guilt wrapped in his rugged features. The spirit puffed up his chest, lungs filled with brimming anger. The memories wouldn't stop, he couldn't think clearly. “Why now?” he blurted through the storm of images, pain creeping into his temple. As nice as it was to feel, the ache was unwanted. “I have been this way for nearly a year... and now you are here, as if you are the answer to all my problems.”

“He could be,” Genji nodded towards his friend, taking a second to glance at the photos strung behind him. “That's why I-”

“Yes, but why now?!” Hanzo's voice resonated through the living room and the other two tensed their bodies. “If you thought this would help, Genji, why bring him here now? I've been living like this... You've been living like this for almost a year!” He flung his hands at his sides, the wispy fabric of his cloak flailing at his side. The anger burned in his chest, like a cloud of smoke. “If you are so important to me to cause... this,” he continued to rant, drawing a hand before his body insinuating the memories, the pain, the physical touch. “They why did you not arrive sooner?”

“I couldn't,” Jesse muttered with a hand halfway over his mouth, rubbing at his chin. He sounded half upset, half angry himself. “I wanted to but I couldn't. Had some of my own shit to deal with...” Genji looked up with at first a glare before he lowered his attention towards his shoes, shifting awkwardly against the couch. Hanzo swallowed, the burn traveling down his throat. Everything built in his chest, pressure spanning through his body. He was shaking, every hair on his body standing on end.

Hanzo didn't know what this man had been through for the past ten months. He hadn't known anything outside of this small apartment for the past ten months. But he knew, day after day, he watched his brother waste his time. Watched him spend every waking second trying to bring him back to the man he used to be. Agonize over pictures, over stories. Missing friends, missing events. Sitting in a sad, quiet apartment with the spirit of his brother, waiting on a day that would never come. And supposedly, Jesse was close. And he couldn't come by sooner. “I refuse to believe it is any worse than what Genji and I have suffered,” Hanzo muttered, his lips tight to keep in the yells threatening to escape.

Jesse swallowed, his lips parting slightly. He brought his hand away from his chin, moving his fingers in a way as if he were picking words from the sky. He then nodded, lowering his head. “Yeah, probably not,” he breathed, his words tinged with resentment. He bit his lip, his attention avoiding the other two in the room. Hanzo wasn't sure if his answer, or lack there of, hurt him more than his absence in the past ten months. “But I'm here now... better than not, right?”

The more Hanzo stood in the living room, the more frustrated he grew with the slew of memories coursing through his mind. Nothing connected and it became just as discouraging to have things in his brain than not. Jesse was not offering any helpful answers and having him here was becoming a headache. He stormed off to his room to pout in silence for the remainder of the evening.

With the door cracked, in case he wanted to leave later. He wasn't sure how long he spent in there until the conversation back in the living room ended. At first Genji pleaded to know where Jesse had been in the past ten months. As if today were the first time they had seen each other since the accident. There was no answer. Jesse wouldn't give one. The conversation shifted towards his accommodations. Genji offered his bedroom. Jesse declined, content to sleep on the couch. Genji went to sleep, all conversation ended.

Hanzo sat in the middle of his bedroom, a single lamp shining in the corner. Although he normally preferred the darkness, tonight felt different. The warm glow settled his mind, serving as a distraction for unrelated memories cruising through his brain. Faces zipped through, names. Nothing coordinated, he had no clue what any of it was. If it were even part of his past, or if was trying to make things up to let himself believe he had a past. No signs of the accident, the thing he wanted to know of most. The thing Genji avoided talking about, the questions Jesse refused to answer.

“You remember how we met?”

Hanzo never remembered, and the sadness that hung in the man's throat strung his heart. It was the same when he told Genji he never remembered. The hope in his voice would vanish, and they would fall into silence for the remainder of the day until Genji brought up another memory he wished his brother held.

Rest would not befall him. It never did. He was incapable of sleep, only sitting in the confinement of this apartment, staring at a wall. Trying to keep his mind busy with the nothing that took residence there. Talking with Genji only turned time so fast, and he wasn't up to sitting in the living room listening to stories of times long since behind him. Even though Jesse offered nothing new, refusing to even remind him of their history. Just sitting in his living room, taking up space. Making his head hurt. He couldn't even look at him right now.

With a long sigh, he drew his single leg towards his body, staring at the heavy prosthetic. “How did I lose my legs?” A question no one would ever answer. Someone knew. They didn't want him to know. He closed his eyes.

Music poured into the back of his brain, a solid beat drumming in his ears. Faded, muffled by heavy walls and thick coats. He opened his eyes, the warm glow coming from a lighter before his face. He watched the way the flame flickered. He was no longer in his room. The walls closed in, shoes and discarded scarves littered the floor. The lighter clicked off and the man holding it laughed. “You really aren't enrolled in that class?” Hanzo muttered, aware of the words coming from his mouth, unsure why he was having this conversation. Like slipping into something familiar, his attention on the young man crowded into the massive walk in closet with him.

A single light hung above them, fluorescent glow flickering as it hadn't been changed in years. “Nope, none of them,” Jesse grinned, striking up his lighter again. Hanzo stared at him, adoring the way the warm glow encircled his features. Put the wild in his honey eyes, kissing his tan skin.

“Then why go to college. You aren't receiving credit.” Hanzo puffed air into his chest, watching the flame dance between them. For a moment, his concern fled to the clothing that hung around them, but this man was careful. He knew how to handle fire. “Waste of time.”

“I ain't got money for an actual degree. I just walk into those real big classes in the huge lecture halls and listen.” He lets the flame dim, looking towards Hanzo with a slow smile. He shrugged again, knowing his ways didn't make much sense. Some classes bored Hanzo to death, others put him under great stress. If he were able to skip without serious consequence, he would often. But here was this fool, stumbling into classes he was getting nothing out of. Except knowledge, of course. But for what. “They're real interesting.”

“If you enjoy them so much, perhaps you could do my work,” he muttered with half a smile, drawing his knees towards his chest. His hands clasp over his shins, bunching around the course fabric of his dark denim. He absently played with the frayed threads of the hole just below his knee. The music, although distorted through the closet walls, soothed his heart. Just as much as the southern accent dripping from the lips of the man cooped in the closet with him. “Do you ever intend to get a degree?” Talking with him... was so easy.

Jesse shrugged, finally pocketing his lighter. Although the fire was gone, Hanzo still felt warmth growing in his chest. Whether it be the small, cramped place, or how close he was to the man in the closet. What little alcohol that still ran through his system. The fact that someone came looking for him... He shifted against the floor, leaning his head slightly just to stare at his party companion. The warmth was concerning, but strangely welcomed. “Prolly not. Don't even know what I want to do with my life. Thought sittin' in on classes would help me find a path, but so far I'm not too interested in anything. What are you going for?”

“Business.” For now. Because he was told to. Although this was his second change in degrees. Before it was law. Like McCree, he wasn't interested in either of those things. But they would get him somewhere in life. Put food on his table. Keep him employed. It wasn't a potential let down, like his brother, who was pursuing photography. Something he loved and put his entire soul into.

“Why you takin' an art history class, then?” Jesse muttered, swirling the contents of his red solo cup. It was the class they shared. A giant lecture hall filled with upwards of a hundred students. And yet, they noticed each other across the sea of meaningless faces. “Just to fill a credit?”

“Yes.” No, not at all. He had already filled his general credit the first time he changed majors. This one was for fun. It was the only one that was fun.

They fell into a comfortable silence, Hanzo aware of the pounding from his heart and not the music. When the man first entered the closet, he thought he was going to lose his mind in anxiety, but now he welcomed his presence. “You know, I don't just take that class cause it's interesting.” Jesse took a huge swig from his cup, setting it down in the small space between them. He elbowed his companion, a silent invitation to take some. Although he denied others offers earlier, he easily picked up the drink, taking a hefty swig himself. The alcohol burned his throat, but he drank worse before. “Art's nice to look at.”

“It is,” Hanzo agreed with a hum against the edge of the cup. He took another drink, handing it back to his closet partner.

Jesse took the cup, aiming towards him with a nod of his head. “You're nice to look at.”

Hanzo grinned at the lack of subtlety, watching the way McCree's throat bobbed as he wolfed down the remainder of his drink. Unkempt stubble along the rugged edge of his jaw. Hair in layered parts, long enough to grab in a heated moment. Hanzo blushed at his indecent thoughts. He was not the only piece of art in this closet. “You sober?” The words rolled off Jesse's tongue like a drum, pattering into his brain in time with the music outside the closet.

“More so than you.”

“Good, I'm gonna need a little help getting to your place.”

Hanzo opened his eyes and lifted his head from the position on his right knee. The old coats and strangers' shoes disappeared and he was sitting in his lonely bedroom. A single bed in the corner, perfectly made. A desk, a dim lamp sitting atop it. Dark curtains, a dresser. Dust. Lots of dust. Lonely, quiet.

Whatever warmth that swelled in his chest quickly dissipated. He felt nothing, as before. The beat of the music, the roll of that man's tongue. Gone. He stared towards the door, memories of a party clinging to the edges of his brain. He remembered how they met. He wanted to know more. 

Hanzo stood, wandering towards the partially open doorway. The apartment was quiet and he assumed both the others were sleeping. There was no light from the living room or hallway, just the small lamp atop his desk. He reached out to slip his arm through the crack in the door, wanting to be in that living room, pestering the other man awake. He had questions, new questions, about how they met. What they were to each other.

Suddenly, it jerked open and Hanzo took a step back, aware of the potential of being hit by it. As if on cue, Jesse stood with his hand around the knob, staring through the crack he opened further in the door. “Oh, excuse me,” he muttered with a half lidded smile, bowing his head.

Hanzo stared at him in newfound awe that replaced the earlier anger, a thin crack of golden light striped down the man's face. A small gleam reflected from the black band dangling from his neck. He thought of his own ring on his left hand, wanting to turn it against his skin. Something he hadn't figured out how to do, and he knew if he could, it would bring him comfort. “Just checkin' in on ya. Couldn't sleep.”

“I don't,” Hanzo grunted. He nodded his head as a silent sign for Jesse to open the door further for him. “Can we talk? I have remembered something.”

“Course, darlin'.” The nickname burrowed into his soul and for a moment, a shock spread up his spine. The warmth, briefly pulsing in his chest. Quickly, it went, but he brought a hand to his heart regardless. “Mind if I step in?”

Jesse crossed the room, taking a seat on the perfectly made bed. He crossed his feet at the ankles, leaning forward with his elbows resting against his knees. For a moment, Hanzo just stood, realizing how familiar this scene felt. How natural it looked to have this man in his room. It felt more lively, homely. He wanted to join him on the bed, but found it more appropriate to take his normal seat back on the floor.

He remained quiet, gathering himself in the center of the bedroom. He stared at the void of his left leg, pulling up the right leg towards his chest. He glanced at Jesse's mechanical left arm, the chain dangling from his neck, his warm skin under the bronze glow of the lamp. “I believe I remember how we met,” he finally announced, his voice slow and deep. His voice started hopeful, amazed to utter such words. Usually he says he can't. He didn't. He will not. But something came back to him. Whether it be true or just a fabricated memory, he wanted to know. “Something came back to me so vividly. A memory... I want to know if it's true.”

“Tell me how it went.” Jesse's voice was cool, soothing to the ear. The warmth gathered. Hanzo let out a slow breath.

Slowly, he relived the memory, spilling out every detail. The closet filled with coats, winter scarves, random shoes. The flickering of the lighter, the sting of the whiskey as it slid down his throat. Talk of class, art, each other. And the moments he hadn't remembered before. Details he didn't notice the first time around. Jesse's tight jeans, bottom hem tattered around his old cowboy boots. Hanzo's hair, in a long side ponytail draped over his shoulder. Jesse wore that gold chain, but no black band around it back then. The way that whiskey tasted on his tongue, how soft Jesse's hair felt between his fingers. Long enough to hang onto.

“That is all I remember,” Hanzo muttered, leaving out the last few details. “Did that happen?”

“That's how it happened.” Jesse stared at his hands, fingers laced together, metal over skin. There was a faint smile pulling at the side of his lips. He quivered for a moment as he nodded his head, finally looking up towards the man sitting on the floor. Their eyes met, sweet like honey, dark like night. “Happened just like that.”

“Why is it that I remember now?” Hanzo muttered more to himself. Perhaps he would forget the next day as he did every other story he was told. Except this was not told to him. This one crept into his brain, threading memories back to him. He remembered it all himself and was even able to relay it to another person. Not once was he ever capable of doing that with Genji. “I remember nothing for months, and now this...”

“Good thing to remember, I'd say. Except you're leaving out the part where...” Jesse began. His voice trailed off. He mumbled something to himself with a bashful chuckle. “Or maybe you just don't remember it yet. I'll let you remember the rest.”

With a hard swallow, Hanzo stared at the band around his left finger, connecting his sight with the one around Jesse's neck. A question he never asked. A question he may forget tomorrow. “Are we married?”

Jesse immediately reached for the band around his neck, twisting it between his fingers. The metal chain clinked against the band, and he sighed. “Naw.”

“Engaged, then?”

With a heavy heart, Jesse let the chain drop against his chest, just along the unbuttoned portion of his shirt. “Somethin' like that.” Hanzo stared down at his hand, admiring the soft curve of the shiny metal ring across his finger. It was the first time he noticed the small line of six tiny stones embedded around the ring. Deep blue, almost black in the darkness of the room. His favorite color. Like midnight. “Think I'm gonna get some sleep,” Jesse suddenly announced in a tired breath, his hands bunching around the gray and black comforter spread across the bed. The way his fingers coursed against the bed, yearning, wistful. His hand shuddered before he pushed up, ready to leave the room.

“Stay here,” Hanzo suddenly muttered, darting from his spot on the floor. He reached out, instinctively pressing his hand against Jesse's chest. His hand trembled, the soft cotton of his plaid button up nice against his fingers. He only wished he could feel a heartbeat, breath against his palm. He drew away, looking towards the bed. “You can sleep in here. I don't need the bed.”

“You sure, pumpkin?” Another ridiculous pet name, another pang of fondness in his heart. “Sorry, old habit,” he mused to himself, turning around to face the bed. The sound of metal sliding against metal.

“I won't need it. I don't sleep.” Hanzo hesitated leaving, enjoying the quiet peace between them. He wanted to ask more questions about them, learn about their history. He didn't need sleep, but he remembered that normal people did. Silently, he swept towards the door with the intention of spending his night in the living room, studying the pictures he had seen so many times before. But hopefully this time with new meaning, with substance behind them more than just mysterious faces.

As he approached the door, he heard Jesse's warm, tired voice call out, “Hanzo.” The light behind him clicked off and he glanced over his shoulder, lingering within the gap between the door and frame. Jesse was still standing before the bed, his hand resting near the switch of the lamp. “I'm sorry I didn't come for you sooner.” The waver in his voice, his words swallowed in regret. “I promise you, I came as fast as I could...”

The tremble in his voice made Hanzo's body shiver. He pressed his hand against the door frame, finding that he needed physical support just to stay upright. Anxiety rested in his stomach and guilt wrenched his heart. Ten months, ten months in a coma. Ten months wandering this godforsaken apartment as a bitter spirit. What had this man been up to for ten months that he couldn't search out the man he loved? With with a sorrowful sigh, he nodded his head. “Goodnight, Jesse.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very sorry for the delay in updating. Summer Games started and I've literally done nothing but that since then (and I've gotten nothing cool, except that totally rad McCree skin lmao). Anyway, here's the next chapter. There's a hint of sexual content in this one, nothing major though. I hope you enjoy, and again, very sorry for the delay in updating. Thanks for reading, and for all those lovely kudos!

Pictures he had seen a million times. Faces he overlooked every day for the past ten months. Hanzo stood before the string of photos, admiring their shiny surface in what little moonlight shone through the window. Peaceful silence calmed his body, the only sound that of the fan in Genji's room. He stood with arms hanging at his sides, eyes darting between pictures. Some still held no meaning, faces he didn't quite recognize. But he stared over the one of Angela and Fareeha perched in the corner of a bar. Fareeha with the widest smile across her face, Angela situated in her lap mid conversation. The adoration on their faces, the love in the entwined fingers. Others were in the picture, but he focused on them. Genji had a way of capturing candid emotion like no other. He was wasting his time sitting around in this apartment waiting for change that may not come.

His eyes hooked on the wedding invitation pinned next to it. The unsigned RSVP card. He seemed to remember Genji being great friends with Angela. The RSVP card must have been for Hanzo, because surely his brother would have taken part in the wedding. But like everything else, Genji missed it. Because he was sitting around here wasting his time.

Hanzo swallowed, searching out the array of photos for something else that snatched his brain. He saw himself, a much younger version. Free of facial hair, less stress lines pulling at his eyes. His hair long, always in that ponytail tied at the end. The yellow sash. He reached up and tried to pull a hand through his own graying locks, but couldn't quite get a grip. The line of things he suddenly could and could not touch was aggravating.

His attention rested on a particular photo of him and Jesse. The two of them sitting outside on a college campus in the middle of the grass. Again, mid conversation. Even in a picture, Jesse looked so animated. Cigarillo nearly hanging from his lips and hands stretched at his sides, glorifying the size of his story as Hanzo sat calmly beside him, attention on a leather bound book rested in his lap. A pencil in his hand, like he were drawing. Smile across his face. The picture was taken at a great distance, but although their figures rested small against the scenic background of the campus, tenderness radiated from the photo. The sense of excitement in Jesse's exaggerated movements, the hint of a laugh hanging on Hanzo's lips. He sighed, wishing to remember how he felt in that particular moment.

Or how he felt during any moment with Jesse. So far he had only felt two things. Fondness and anger. Fondness from the brief glimpse of the closet memory, and anger that he couldn't come sooner. Whatever the reason, he still believed that whatever kept him away wasn't as great as himself in a coma. But he knew if he asked, Jesse would not tell him.

He wouldn't tell him anything. Hanzo had no idea what kind of person he was dealing with. Blips of memories could only tell him so much. Was he a good person? Did he even love him? How close had they been? He glanced at the black band wrapped around his finger, narrowing his eyes on it. Engaged. Something like that. His lack of knowledge frustrated him.

“Where have you been?” he muttered to himself, closing his eyes as warmth swept over his body.

The room began to fade to complete darkness around him, the heat flooding his body like an oven. At first it was sickening, anxiety dwelling in his stomach. But soon, it was welcoming. Still anxious, but a different kind of unease. Like butterflies swelling throughout his entire body. He felt inclined to take a seat, dropping down to the floor slowly, outstretching his legs before him. His complete, intact legs, wrapped in tight denim, a hole frayed just below his knee. He opened his eyes, letting out a sigh at the sight before him.

The fading overhead light of the closet flickered and he became aware of Jesse's body, a knee between his thighs, hands on either side of his face against the wall. He was back in the closet again, back when they first met. The situation, like all the other memories in his brain, rolled on fast, the two of them so close so suddenly. Before he could even grasp what was happening, their lips crashed together. Hanzo took in the taste of whiskey on the other man's tongue, trying to hold back desperation in his eager lips. Each time Jesse even hinted at pulling back, Hanzo would snatch him with a nibble, drawing him in. They fell so easily together. It was terrifying.

“I am not normally like this,” Hanzo breathed when the kiss gave way, shutting his eyes and reaching blindly through the dark closet. The thought that someone could bust in here any moment searching for their shoes triggered in the back of his mind, but he couldn't stop his wandering hands. His fingers looped into the waistband of Jesse's tight jeans, stretching at the elastic of his boxers underneath. “I am not this kind of person.”

“You sayin' I'm special, darlin'?” Jesse rose to his knees at his partner's pull, Hanzo furiously tugging out the tucked in shirt. He brought his lips to the soft spot of stomach just above the waist band, nipping at skin with eager teeth. Jesse sighed, bunching Hanzo's soft hair in his desperate fingers. “Ain't nothing wrong about it, if it's what you want...”

“I want this,” Hanzo breathed through a hard swallow, a shiver running down his spine at the way the man's fingers tangled through his long hair. The lack of hesitance in his answer caused a rough chuckle to tumble from Jesse's lips.

Hanzo reached up, slowly undoing his partner's shirt one tedious button at a time. Nervous, but careful fingers, enjoying every second of contact. “Then I'm all yours, sugar,” Jesse grunted with a sharp bite of his own bottom lip, briefly tightening his grip around Hanzo's hair at the base of his neck. The man beneath him moaned in adoration, pushing up the white undershirt to reveal the soft but toned skin of Jesse's abdomen. As he drew his tongue along the man's stomach, Hanzo's fingers were quick to unzip his jeans, forcing them down his hips. 

He hadn't been this person in a long time. He couldn't remember a time when he ever was this kind of person, so desperate for someone's touch that he couldn't wait to reach the privacy of his own apartment. Perhaps it was because Jesse came looking for him when he disappeared from the crowded party. Maybe it was the brief knowledge that they shared from class, or that they had seen each other in passing before. Most likely, it was the whiskey. Hanzo didn't know, and he was sure Genji would hound him for it tomorrow morning when he had to scoot a half naked cowboy out of their apartment, because there was no way things were stopping in just the closet.

A long sigh fell from Hanzo's open lips as he allowed Jesse to pull his head back. He rolled his attention upward, letting his tongue glide hungry across his bottom lip, his body leaning back further against the closet wall until he was propped up on his elbows. Jesse had shifted in a way that his knees were almost straddling Hanzo's shoulders, the man's lips dangerously close to his begging arousal. “You sure are beautiful,” Jesse growled from the base of his throat, using his other hand to draw his thumb beneath Hanzo's lower lip. The man beneath him darted out his tongue to catch his fingertip, mouth open and eager.

Jesse smiled and cocked his head back, ready to spill out more cherished compliments, but before he could inch out another word, Hanzo hushed him by drawing his lips across Jesse's cloth covered erection. Although the hand through his hair was meant to guide, Hanzo ignored the tightened fingers, taking control of their situation. With kisses, tongue, his own fingers clawing at exposed stomach, trailing down hip bones, over thighs. He wanted this.

He wanted to remember this so bad.

Hanzo opened his eyes to the calm of the empty living room. It was nearly three in the morning at this point, the memories cascading through his mind making the time zip by. It was the fastest he had lived a day in months, grabbing at images so far in the past. He took in a heavy breath, particularly winded from the recent memory. The warmth was gone from his chest, but he still held a yearning to touch Jesse. Even though he was in the other room, hopefully asleep by now.

He wanted to touch him. To feel him against his fingertips. Not even in a sensual sense, mainly just to feel. Like the initial shock when he held his face in the hallway. Hanzo pulled himself to stand, gliding through the hallway to peek through the crack in the door leading to his bedroom. The interior had fallen into the darkness he was used to. He could make out the still shape of the man lingering in his bed. The only sound a whirring fan from behind Genji's closed door, and stray cars passing the street just outside the apartment.

Slipping through the crack in the door, he was careful not to make much noise. The door lurched, squealing out a small metallic whine and he slowed his movement to make sure it didn't smack against the wall. His footsteps made no sound as he still floated over the carpet, coming to stand beside the bed.

Jesse laid stomach down against the bed, pillows bunched within his arms, breathing softly as he slept. He didn't change his clothes, or even remove his shoes, opting to use the warmth of his clothing instead of blankets. The ring on the chain rested against the pillow, wispy bangs hanging in his face. Hanzo reached out, not sure where he wanted to lay his fingers first. Was his hair as soft as he remembered, gathered in his eager fingers? Would he even feel anything if he were to touch him now? Would he wake him?

He hesitated, hand hovering over Jesse's sleeping features. He noticed his hand begin to tremble. Touch escaped him for months. He couldn't feel the ground beneath his feet. Even sliding through walls and doors gave nothing. Advances on himself went unnoticed. Running his fingers through his hair provided no peace, crossing his arms, the touch of clothing against his skin. Nothing, like his memories. Something long since forgotten suddenly rushing back to him like a storm. Hanzo licked his lips, finally letting his fingertips rest against the man's forehead.

Feather touches, light brushes against skin. Warmth as he drew back the man's dark bangs. A shock, small, coursing through his palm. The soft touches soon turned heavier, raking his fingers through the longer locks. Scratching his nails against Jesse's scalp, reveling in the feeling of another person in his touch. Not for possession, but for intimacy. This felt right. Familiar. He never wanted to let go, afraid this feeling would escape him once more.

Jesse rustled beneath him, but instead of darting away like a timid rabbit, Hanzo allowed himself to continue raking his fingers through hair. With a groan, the man turned his head slightly, his voice trailing in a pleased hum. He stared up at Hanzo with a tired half smile droopy on his face. “You remember somethin' else?” he questioned in a sleepy stupor, closing his eyes and leaning his head further into the man's hand. Like a cat begging for a good scratch.

Hanzo flipped through the scattered images now dancing through his brain, remembering the follow up to the first closet memory. And then new memories slowly creeping in as he stared down at the man against the bed. The incessant digging through his brother's dresser for the necessary. Peeling clothes from each other, falling into the sheets, hands on the headboard. The words, the breaths, the intimate kisses on cool, sweaty skin. He hadn't even noticed that his combing had turned into a little bit of a pull until Jesse hissed briefly, rolling into a chuckle. “No,” he mumbled, not willing to discuss that part of their past for accuracy. “Do you feel this?”

“I do,” Jesse affirmed with a purr of satisfaction.

“Does it feel strange?”

“Feels right.” Hanzo shivered at how easy this all felt. He knew nothing about this man other than the blips of the past flooding in. But the sense of trust and love dwelling in his heart made him feel safe. For the first time in months, he felt purpose. Desire. Need. “It's my favorite. Please do this all night...”

“I'm sorry I woke you.”

“Wasn't sleepin' anyway.” Jesse shifted against the bed, pushing himself in an upright position. Hanzo's hand slid to his face, standing before the man as Jesse draped his legs over the edge of the bed. Without words, Jesse reached out for the draw string on the other man's sweatpants, lazily playing with it. His hands then bunched the fabric of the wispy cloak, his forehead rested against Hanzo's abdomen. As if he were a whole person. Part of his being able to be touched, messed with. Solid form, soft fabric. Not some faded hallucination that he assumed he had been to Genji this entire time. So easily grasped, as if he were never a spirit at all. “Sorry, this ain't too proper,” Jesse muttered, leaving a kiss just above Hanzo's navel. His lips brief, Hanzo wishing he could feel them on his skin and not through the shirt. “You don't remember me too well, and I shouldn't be touchin' you like this. But I miss you...”

“How is it that you can touch me? No one has done the same.” Not even Hanzo could make the fabric of his clothes move quite like this. His hair forever hanging against his neck. The ring, stuck in place against his finger. Yet, Jesse could move him so freely. He wasn't thinking too hard. Hanzo was thinking too much.

With a smile as sly as in his memories, Jesse breathed against his stomach, “Maybe I'm special.”

Hanzo drew his hands along the man's jaw, course facial hair tickling his palm. He laced his left hand through layered locks, scratching at the base of Jesse's neck. He barely remembered him, but it all felt right. He didn't remember why, other than the vague notion that they were lovers. But it was more than that. He needed to know more. “Please tell me about us.”

“Don't know if I should do that,” Jesse muttered through a hearty breath, letting his fists loosen. The fabric fell back along Hanzo's side as the man picked up his head, staring back at his lover. “Genji's been tellin' you stories for months, and you ain't remembered a thing. I show up, and suddenly you're tellin' me stories. Think it's best I don't say a word.” He had a point. Jesse told him nothing. And even the things he did tell him were vague, questionable. Just assumptions, letting him unravel their past on his own. But where were the memories coming from? Did seeing him really set a spark in his brain? Was he the key they had been searching for all this time?

“Very well,” Hanzo stated, looking about the once lonely room. With what little light that beamed from the window, he noticed the small gathering of items on his dresser top he didn't remember seeing before. A tray of incense, burned halfway down the stick. A lighter, cheap, from a convenience store decorated in vibrant flames. A leather bound journal, tied shut with a golden ribbon. He wanted to walk over and read the contents, but didn't want to let this man go. “Shall we sleep?” he offered, although he knew he was incapable.

“Sleep don't come easy, darlin',” Jesse mumbled, leaning back into his bed. He propped himself on his elbows, his knees just on either side of Hanzo's thighs. The chain slid against his neck, resting against the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. The ring settled in the dip of his chest. “Reckon it might be a little nicer, though, if you came to lay beside me.” 

With a slow lick of his lips, Hanzo stared down at the man lounging into his bed. His body pressing into the dark comforter, moonlight dancing over the contours of his face. Glimmering off the black band, over the folds of his bunched plaid shirt. An image he had seen before, many times. The familiarity shot shivers up his spine and he quietly obliged, nodding his head as an indication for Jesse to move over. The cowboy did without hesitation, leaving enough room for Hanzo's spirited form to slither in. 

He felt nothing of the firm mattress or soft blanket, except the weight holding him up. He half expected to fall through the bed with how his luck had been going. He hadn't used it since becoming a spirit. Fabric meant nothing to him, comfort was beyond his touch. But the second he crawled his body into the bed, Jesse was around him like a koala. Pressing every inch of his body that he could against him, arms wrapped around his shoulders, legs entwined. Hanzo sucked in a breath, taking in a plethora of scents he didn't know could come from one person. Whiskey, burning candles, winter air. Memories, so many memories, sparking in his brain like a rapid flame.

He closed his eyes, letting them come to him like a freight train. Welcoming the feelings, the prickles on his skin, the hands clinging to his back. “I missed you,” Jesse breathed with a ragged choke threatening his words. Guilt. He sounded guilty. His hands felt guilty, fingers filled with regret and the bunched fabric of his shirt. Holding on like everything could slip away in a second. He wondered if Jesse tried to hold his hospitalized body in this manner. If holding him this tightly gave him more satisfaction than standing beside his comatose lover. “Oh, lord, how I've missed you.”

Taking in another long breath, Hanzo wished he could say the same to ease this troubled soul. He missed the touch, the longing, the desire. But despite the flickers of light passing through his brain, he knew nothing about this man. Not enough to utter back. Biting his tongue, he just allowed himself to be held. Close, within breaths reach. Safe. Warm.

Heat swelled in not only his chest, but his entire body. The room shifted, the warm glow of the side table lamp illuminating bits of the space. Still his room, but many years before. Back to the night of the closet rendezvous. Past the point of digging through his brother's side drawer, fumbling to keep his partner from pinning him down in his brother's bed from impatience. The incense on his dresser now burning, evoking sensuality deep within his stomach. He could hear Jesse's breath growing stronger, more desperate, ragged beneath him. Cool sweat draining down his back, hips rolling, hands fumbling. Jesse's body writhing beneath him, out of breath, words dancing just at the tip of his tongue. Strangled by intense pleasure. Hanzo's fingers filled with skin, clinging to hips, clawing down thighs. His lover, just on the edge of pure bliss, writhing and bucking on the bed beneath him. A sigh, a scream, a swear.

Hanzo pressed a hand into the bed beside Jesse's head, leaning forward, shuddered breath escaping his parted lips. He dabbed them against the man's forehead with more intimacy than he was used to, letting his entire body collapse into the mattress. Jesse immediately rolled over, his strong arms draping over Hanzo's chest. He silently gave his thanks in spattered kisses along his neck. On his shoulder, under his jaw, side of his lips. “Oh, darlin',” Jesse breathed, goosebumps fleeing back to Hanzo's skin just as quickly as they dissipated when he came down from the frenzy. “Darlin', you are magic.”

Hanzo hummed with nothing more than a proud smile and a cocked eyebrow. The two rested in content silence, cars passing by outside. The shift of blankets, exasperated breaths, heartbeats. And then suddenly Jesse pushed himself to sit up, letting his legs dangle over the side of the bed. He stretched, Hanzo watching the way the muscles of his back contracted as he held his hands high above his head, remnants of sweat draining down his back. “Suppose I should get on out of here,” Jesse muttered when he finally let his arms drop, elbows pressed into his knees. “You got a brother, right? Probably don't want him knowing I'm here.”

Hanzo took in a long breath, almost offended that the man wanted to leave so soon. As embarrassing as it would be for Genji to catch them, he wasn't completely opposed to the idea. As long as it kept this man in his bed. “Perhaps you should stay,” he offered, reaching out to draw his fingers along the base of Jesse's back. He felt the man shiver under his touch, but Jesse didn't turn to look his way. “I don't think you're sober enough. May not be safe...”

“I'm fine,” Jesse smirked, reaching out to sweep up Hanzo's phone from the nightstand. Somehow, he flipped through the lock screen password, digging into his contacts. He keyed in his number, and set the phone back down. “See you in class, then?”

“You don't have-”

Jesse slid out of the bed, just out of Hanzo's reach. His hand left the man's back, and just like that, the world gave way. Hanzo felt the terrifying shift in stomach when his body suddenly jolted towards the floor. Through the blankets, through the mattress, colliding with the floor with a solid thud. He swallowed, staring up at the underside of the bed, enveloped in complete darkness. For a moment, he laid flat, hands against the carpet, eyes darting for something recognizable. He was no longer in his memories, just a spirit lying on the floor.

He instinctively turned, noting the way his body glided straight through his surroundings again. Crawling, or floating, against the floor until he was in the middle of his quiet, lonely bedroom. No one rested on the bed now. Jesse had left without warning, without reason. And without anyone to hold him up, Hanzo could not longer rest against the bed.

Without Jesse, he was no longer a person.


	4. Chapter 4

Everything fell right back to the way it was. Hanzo zipped through walls and doors without a hitch. Things were just out of his grasp. The warmth ran from his body, and the only thing he felt now was anger. He wandered through the quiet apartment searching for his disappearing partner. But Jesse was no where to be found within the tiny home. Genji still slept in his room, the only other body that occupied the space. Hanzo stood in the center of the living room, so upset he was unaware that his only right leg was hovering through the coffee table. “Jesse,” he grumbled to himself, looking over all the pictures. The ticket stubs, receipts, the memories. He still had at least those, which only made the man's disappearance worse. He was right there just moments before, although Hanzo wasn't sure how long he had been in his own head. Perhaps he had been lost in memories for hours, although it only felt like mere minutes. He looked towards the clock. Little bit after five in the morning. He forgot what time he even went to bed. “Where are you?”

Where did he have to go at this time? Hanzo knew nothing of him. Perhaps he had a job. Family he needed to see. Errands he had to run. Maybe Genji knew, but it wasn't worth waking his brother. He spent months trying to ward off his brother's stories, he didn't want to disturb him begging for them now. He huffed, clenching his fists at his side without feeling. He knew his body was tense, but he sensed nothing of it. No nails digging into palms, veins threading against his arms. Just the anger.

With a huff of distress, he fled back to his bedroom, passing through the door with ease. The brimming morning drained from the underside of the curtain, and he focused his attention on the gathering of items atop his dresser. He couldn't remember if they had always been there the past ten months or if they were things that came with Jesse once he arrived. Although now that he thought of it, it seemed that Jesse came with nothing. No bags, no clothes, no personal contents. Unless that's what he left to grab.

The half burned incense, the scent foreign to his mind. The more he leaned in, the less he could remember the smoke. The cheap lighter. The leather bound book, a long golden sash tied to keep it shut. He reached out, threading his hand straight through the book. Reaching back, he hesitated and narrowed his eyes in concentration. Earlier, his fingers full of hair, skin, and clothes. Now nothing. He pressed his hand against the book again, zipping straight through it. His nostrils flared in anger and he wanted nothing more than to throw the book from the dresser top. But his life wouldn't even give him that satisfaction.

“Where are you?!” he hollered to himself, turning around to inspect the room. The blankets left untouched, not a single crease to note that the two were sleeping there. Clearly he had enough time to straighten the bed before he left. No shoes, no clothes left behind. Nothing, like he was never even there. Hanzo whipped around with a growl of discontent, throwing his hands down against the dresser top.

A loud smack reverberated throughout the room and suddenly he was sitting in the driver's seat of a car. A very old car from when he was younger. Back in college. Beat up, barely chugging along, but it got him from one point to another. He stared over the steering wheel, through the misty fall day and colored leaves dropping from the trees. He glanced at himself in the rear view mirror, tired eyes from waking early for class. After the weekend, he didn't sleep much. He had too much on his mind. Someone on his mind.

The more he rested into the stiff seat of the car, the more he slipped from self awareness. Another memory. He just left class, the one he shared with Jesse. But the man hadn't shown up for the past two days. Not that he was required to. The professor didn't even know his name. Cowboy never spoke in class, never asked questions, didn't make his presence known. And now, just like the night Hanzo brought him home, he disappeared without a trace.

Hanzo breathed in as he started his car, turning on the wipers to brush away the pile of leaves the overhead branches dumped on him while in class. He looked down at his phone, expecting a message, but there was none. He tried contacting Jesse multiple times. Well, a couple times. He didn't want to come off as desperate, even though he felt a little needy. But the man never responded. “Why put your number in my phone if you aren't going to answer me?” he thought to himself as he threw his phone into the empty passenger seat.

Perhaps he was being needy, expecting a random party hook up to be that attached. Jesse was special, after all. Hanzo wasn't that kind of person. He thought he had expressed that, but it was not Jesse's obligation to reciprocate. But still, even a word would be nice. Now he would go home, sit in a pile of homework, and wait for some sort of message. Maybe he was too busy, or he didn't really enjoy the time they spent together. Jesse may have called him magic, but that could have been the alcohol talking.

Just as he went to pull out of the parking lot, he noticed a car across the lot. In the very corner, parked beneath a shading of trees. Red and yellow leaves scattered across the pavement offering little coverage as he could see clearly through the back window. Someone was having relations in that car. He shook his head, lowering his attention towards the dashboard before he could pick out any details of those inside. Neither of the people in the car across the way noticed when he clicked on his headlights. It was none of his business. At least they weren't in the student lounge or various other places on campus people had been caught.

Who was he to talk? He nearly got it on in a stranger's closet. It took everything in the two of them not to have sex in that closet. All hands and fumbling lips on the way back to his apartment. They almost didn't make it out of the car. He sighed, leaning his head back for a moment. He noticed a discarded pack of cigarillos on the floorboard. Empty, but he hadn't thrown it out yet.

Hanzo shifted the car into drive and slowly rolled forward to exit the parking lot. But just as he went to leave, one of the love makers stepped out of the car. He jutted on the brakes, only a foot out of his parking spot, when he realized it was Jesse hurdling out of the car, awkwardly stuffing himself back into his jeans. A girl puled out after him, a sloppy smile on her face. She reached out, slinking her hand against his rear before sliding something into his pocket.

Hanzo wasn't sure if he should be shocked or upset, but it was terrible mixture of both. He hardly knew the man, it was probably just a one time thing shared between them over the weekend. He shouldn't have let himself get so attached. What was he thinking? He gripped the steering wheel, slamming the gear into park and shutting off the car. He could have easily drove off, pretended like he saw nothing. Sitting here spouting in rage only risked getting caught. Of course, if Jesse decided to return to class, Hanzo was sure he couldn't bottle his irritation.

With his head low, he watched the girl climb into the driver's seat of the car, backing her way out and leaving Jesse standing in the foggy fall evening. The man lingered for a moment, waving her away with half a smile until she was out of his view. The second she was gone, his smile faltered and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. So quickly his demeanor changed. Hanzo wondered if the same expression fell on Jesse's face once he ran from the apartment.

Part of him wanted to roll down the window and call him out, but the rational part of him said it wasn't worth it. He was acting like a jealous boyfriend to someone who wasn't his. Obviously Jesse had other intentions, and keeping Hanzo in his life wasn't one of them. At least faithfully. He swallowed, turning the ignition and shifting the car back into drive. Before he could roll away, a fist rapped against his passenger window. He stuck on the brakes, taking in a long, heated breath.

“Hanzo?” he could hear Jesse ramble, muffled by the glass. Another knock. Hanzo tried to ignore him, contemplating flooring his car forward to avoid him. He really didn't want to talk to the man after what he had seen. “Hanzo?” More knocking, this time on the driver's side. He didn't even see him move that fast. And suddenly, he was shaking, firm hands on his shoulders. “Hey, you in there?”

Hanzo breathed out, ready to scream when he suddenly found himself standing in the center of the living room, sunlight blaring in from the patio door. Jesse stood before him, his hands on his shoulder as he shook him lightly to grab attention. For a moment, Hanzo just breathed out, his head swirling in disorientation. Back from another memory, staring at the face that left him hours before. “You ok, darlin'?”

Where as he welcomed all touch before, the weight of the man's hands held him down harder than he liked. “Don't touch me,” Hanzo grumbled, attempting to shift his form away. He back stepped easily, throwing his hands at his sides and Jesse backed off also, lowering his head in saddened understanding. Like a hurt puppy. “Where did you go?” Hanzo then barked, throwing his hand towards the slightly ajar bedroom door. He wasn't sure what time it was, but the sunlight blaring into the living room hurt his brain.

“Where did I go? I've been here all morning,” Jesse muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. Hanzo noticed that he hadn't changed clothes, still in his boots, hair a mess. Did this man ever clean up? “You zoned out again. Did you remember something?” He said it with a sly smile and a low hum in his voice. Oh yes, he remembered something.

“That you cheated on me,” Hanzo grunted, tilting his head forward to glare from beneath his eyebrows.

Jesse shook his head, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. “Cheated on you? Oh, darlin', of all the terrible things I've done, cheating on you is not one of them.” He let his hands come to rest on his hips, shifting his weight and throwing his attention to the floor. He muttered something beneath his breath, and then laughed again. Low, the chuckle rolling off his tongue like a drum.

Hanzo swallowed, trying to drag up the memories and put them in order. He wasn't sure how any of this actually went, or when everything unfolded, but so far, everything seemed chronological. “After we met in the closet, and after I took you home, I saw you-”

“Ah, so you did remember what came next,” Jesse interrupted, glancing up through a shade of disheveled bangs and a curved lip. “Afraid you'd forget about that...”

“Stop that,” Hanzo huffed, shaking all the memories from his head. “Where did you go? Why did you leave in the middle of the night?” He knew no answers would come, so he didn't give Jesse a second to answer, rolling into his next string of demands. “Where have you been for the past year? I need to know. These memories are nice, but they are not helping.”

“But they are helping,” Jesse grunted, narrowing his eyes. “You're remembering, ain't ya? I can touch you, right? Something's helping.”

“I am still here.” Hanzo let out a breath that shook his entire form, jagged and distorted from his throat. He looked towards the window, then the closed front door before he stared back at Jesse. Angry, lost. Begging for answers.

“You ever tried leaving this apartment?” Jesse questioned, nodding his head towards the locked front door. Hanzo followed his sight, noticing Genji's keys were gone from their spot on the side table by the door. Before shooting back his response, he felt his heart flutter remembering that Genji's keys even had a spot. Yesterday, he wouldn't have known any different.

“Of course I have,” Hanzo grunted back, refusing to budge as Jesse stepped past him towards the front door. “I have tried numerous times, I can't leave here.”

“You tried since I showed up?” Jesse wrapped his left hand around the door handle, Hanzo waiting to hear the chime of metal on metal. But things were strangely quiet, Jesse looking into the peek hole out into the main stairwell of the apartment. His right hand undoing the lock, left turning the knob. Careful in every movement. No click, no jiggle, no metal. Just silence.

Jesse swung open the front door, stopping it before it could make a hard smack against the wall. He lingered in the open space, taking a long breath himself before standing in the clear bottom floor of the apartment stairwell. Just four small steps up to ground level, aged metal mailboxes burrowed into the brick interior. The first one with Genji's name scribbled across a piece of paper taped above the lock.

Hanzo hesitated, just staring out into the empty stairwell. “It will not work,” he breathed, unsure. It could work. His memories were kicking in, touch became familiar. He could very well be able to leave the apartment.

“Just try,” Jesse offered with a shrug, extending his right hand. He waved his partner forward, leaning his head back long enough to look up the next few floors. Quiet afternoon, people either gone to school, work, or keeping busy in their own homes. No one to pass by and wonder why this fool was standing on the bottom floor, talking to the no one in his living room. “What's the worst that could happen? You can't leave, and I come back inside.”

Hanzo's heart bubbled with anxiety looking into the empty palm offered in his direction. Course fingertips waiting to be filled with his own. A sense of trust swelled in his body, despite just moments ago being filled with questions and confusion. He nodded, stepping forward, careful to avoid the coffee table this time should it hurt if he bumbled into it. He took a hold of Jesse's hand, which lingered between the door frame just inside the parameters of the apartment.

“Not so bad,” Jesse hummed, throwing ease down his partner's spine as he tightened his grip around Hanzo's fingers. He pulled them gently towards the stairwell, taking a step back so that no part of him lingered in the doorway.

Once he crossed the threshold of the door frame, Hanzo immediately met a coursing pain zapping through his body. The only comfort her could recognize was Jesse's hand, clinging tightly to his grip. At first, he swallowed his discomfort behind gritted teeth, attempting to force his body through the doorway. Something held him back, stabbing into every inch of his spirited form until he could no longer hide it.

“Okay, you're right, it's not going to work,” Jesse grunted, placing his hands against Hanzo's shoulders to force him back into the apartment. But Hanzo shut his eyes tight, enduring the pain flooding his body, using every amount of energy he held to push back against his lover. One prosthetic foot through the door frame into the bottom of the stairwell, his body heavily pressed into Jesse's, voice screaming through the pain. “Hanzo, stop, it's hurting you!” Jesse yelled back, and Hanzo couldn't focus enough to care that his partner's voice could echo through the stairwell. Shouting the name of someone who no longer existed in this place for everyone else knew. He just wanted out. “Hanzo!”

Jesse grunted, shoving as hard as possible to pile them both back into the living room. Hanzo finally gave way when he could no longer harbor the pain, crashing down on his back against the living room floor. Jesse toppled over him, nearly knocking his head against the coffee table. He rested with elbows on either side of Hanzo's head, his body trembling and breath ragged. He kicked his foot out, the front door coming to a close.

“Did I hurt you?” Hanzo groaned, wondering if the trembling was because of him. Despite the pain still pulsing through him, he only noticed how weak Jesse had suddenly become. Did he take the energy from him?

“No, no, are you okay?” Jesse swallowed, instinctively laying kisses of concern all over Hanzo's face. Along his jaw, on his cheek bone, above his eyebrow. Trembling, breathless kisses that sucked away any ounce of pain throbbing against his skin. Soon he felt nothing but the warmth, and the nervous cowboy pushing away from him. “How bad did that hurt you? Does that always happen?”

“Normally I just can't leave, never anything like that.” Jesse took a seat before him as Hanzo crawled to his knees, resting his hands along his thighs. Jesse's feet straddled either side of him, and they came to a quiet rest. Jesse catching his breath, Hanzo letting out a sigh. The apartment fell into silence, traffic bustling through outside, a dog barking somewhere in the yard.

Jesse extended his right arm, bringing his palm against Hanzo's cheek. His thumb brushing the edge of his lip, his course fingertips drawing heat against his paled complexion. Hanzo sighed again, glancing at the face of the digital watch that stalled at 2:47AM around his partner's wrist. He looked up towards the clock on the wall. Just a little bit before noon, seconds ticking away. Genji was not awake yet? “Surely Genji will be awake soon with all that noise,” he mused to more himself out loud, his lip catching against the cowboy's thumb.

“Your brother ain't here right now,” Jesse hummed, finally withdrawing his hand. He stared at his own fingers for a moment before letting his elbows come to rest against his knees. “Told me he was steppin' out to meet with a friend.”

Hanzo tilted his head, glancing towards the pictures on the wall. “What friend?” he asked, drawing up faces in his brain. Angela, maybe. Or Lucio. Or others he still hadn't recollected in his thoughts. Whoever it was, it was comforting to hear his brother felt well enough to step out of the apartment for more than groceries and laundry.

“Not sure, actually. Someone he met after the accident to help him cope.” Jesse shrugged, rubbing at the back of his neck. His hands were still trembling, and he struggled to sound collected when he spoke. Did Hanzo's pain really shake him that bad? “Never got his name, never met him either.”

“What can you tell me?” Hanzo grunted, clenching his fingers into the fabric on his thighs. For the first time in a while, he could actually gather it. Thick cotton sweatpants collected in his angry fingers. “Anything about where you have been since the accident?”

“Scared to tell you that, darlin'.” Jesse shrugged, pushing his metal hand against the floor. He used the coffee table to brace himself as he stumbled to a stand, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don't want something to go wrong and you never wake up.” Hanzo narrowed his eyes, tired of this man's consistent dodging of every question. It seemed his memory could be hazy, but certainly nothing like Hanzo had suffered for months.

Asking the same questions over and over was getting no where, just like Genji retelling him the same stories over again got him nowhere. Clearly his approach was wrong. “Then tell me,” Hanzo breathed, tightening his fingers. He let go of his sweatpants, flattening them against his thighs. “Tell me about you. Who you were before I met you.”

Jesse smiled from the corner of his lips, staring out through the partially opened blinds that overlooked the outside. The sun shone in brightly, darting off the contours of his metal limb, reflection off the gold chain and black band. Although it hurt his eyes, he didn't look away, only squinting to keep shielded. “What kind of person were you, what did you do for a living?” Hanzo continued to mutter when he received no answer, staring at his own prosthetic. No light against his parts. Just a dull, matte leg. The black band around his finger dark against his skin. “What did you do to make me love you so?”

“Darlin',” Jesse rumbled, finally tearing his attention away from the window. He rounded the coffee table and took a heavy seat against the couch. He settled easy, leaning against the arm with his chin perched in his palm. “I don't know what I did to get you to love me, and I ask myself the same thing every day of my life.”

Hanzo looked up and cocked an eyebrow, silently pressing that he was still not happy with the lack of answers. “Okay,” Jesse breathed, shaking his head as if bouncing ideas through his brain. He mumbled a few things to himself with a loud sigh, letting his chin pull away from his hand. “I was tied up with all the wrong people before we met. Flunked out of high school after my parents kicked me out, didn't have any money to go through college.”

Hanzo remembered that bit from the closet. Didn't have the money, but attended class anyway. Out of interest, not potential. A waste of time in others eyes, but it must have been something important to Jesse if he kept doing it. “Lived out of my car for a while, even though the plates had been expired for a couple years. Got the idea to bum around campus of your college. Nice place. Lots of buildings, lots of classes, lots of people who stayed in dorms.”

Jesse paused, letting his tongue slide against his bottom lip. “What memory you had 'bout me cheating on you... ain't what happened.” He avoided looking Hanzo in the eye, instead in favor of staring at the blistering sun peering in from the blinds. “I would lay my head down wherever people would let me rest. Sometimes people just let me in. Sometimes I had to use other means to get what I needed.”

Hanzo grunted. Didn't explain hitting up a girl in the parking lot after they had already been together. Also didn't explain why Jesse left so quickly after they hooked up if he had simply been looking for a place to stay. “You seem smart and capable,” he muttered, reaching out to let his hand rest against the coffee table. The hard, cool wood beneath his fingers. A magazine, remote for the television, a half drank cup of tea. But just one today. “Why not get a real job?”

“You ever been homeless before?” Jesse shot back, swallowing his tone with a rough chuckle.

“At the moment, you would remember better than me if I were ever homeless,” Hanzo muttered back with sarcasm in his throat, side eyeing his partner who simply smiled from the couch. But it wasn't his normal charming smile. It was hurt. Hanzo sucked in a sigh. He shouldn't get cocky if Jesse was finally giving him answers.

“It's hard comin' up from the bottom. When you're mixed up with the wrong crowd and got a name for yourself.” Hanzo pressed his hand down against the coffee table to use as leverage to stand, but wavered when he felt his palm slip through it just slightly. He drew back, remaining in his spot on the floor, despite wanting to crawl up on the couch beside Jesse. “But you helped me start over and saved my life.” A listless smile now, still hurt, but sweeter than the one before. “I'm gonna do the same for you.”

Jesse looked away from the window, covering his mouth with his right hand, scratching at the scruff along his chin. For a moment, they shared a glance and Hanzo felt as though they were meeting all over again. The butterflies gathering in full through his body. He drew his dark eyes towards the floor instead. He noticed a stain on the carpet just along the foot of the coffee table he hadn't seen before. Juice, perhaps wine. Little details he glazed over for months suddenly picking at his brain. Irrelevant, small, but details. “Thank you,” Hanzo breathed, feeling the weight of the black band circled around his finger. “What kind of person was I? What drew you to me?”

The way Jesse's face lit up with admiration made Hanzo's body nearly explode with nerves. “Oh, man,” the man on the couch whistled, sitting up straight as that charming smile laced along his lips. His hands as animated as in Genji's photograph, as if he couldn't believe the words that were about to spill from his mouth. “I had been going to this class for a few weeks, that art history class. Learning some neat things, always sat towards the back row, but not directly back row because I didn't want to be obvious. Tried to blend in.”

His voice poured out in waves of joy, reliving the moment that Hanzo caught his eye. As if they memory was the most fond in his mind, taking up the most precious space in his brain. “One day, you sat down in front of me. I hadn't seen you before, think you sat closer up before, didn't recognize the back of your head.” His hands rolled, his voice rattled on, and Hanzo found himself captivated in the way he told the story, trying to take himself back to that moment. “Your hair was real long, much longer than it is now, tied in this ponytail that hung off your shoulders. Real pretty. You didn't say anything, just sat down in the row in front of me and a little bit to the right.” He wanted to touch his own hair, but didn't move, fearing that even the slightest budge would deter from the energy of Jesse's story. Seemingly mundane to anyone else, but important to him. Important to them.

“Class started as always and I paid attention for a little bit, but then I realized you were real focused on something in front of you. I could see the side of your face.” Jesse's voice softened as he narrowed his eyes, staring into the center of the living room. “You were biting your lip, drawing in a sketchbook. An older looking one, leather bound, yellowed pages. Hands...” Pausing, Jesse stared between his right and left hand, examining the difference between flesh and metal. He sighed through a stretched smile, clenching his fingers together. “You drew beautiful hands... everything you did was beautiful.”

Hanzo also stared at his partner's hands, watching the way the light curved off his metal fingers. To many, the appendage could be seen as an eyesore. The obvious thing to look at, the initial attention drawer. And it did draw Hanzo's attention, but not because it was out of place. It suited him, crafted just as beautifully as everything else on his body. That he had seen so far, at least. “I wanted to talk to you,” Jesse continued on, voice still low, still quiet. Rolling through like thunder that gathered in the depths of Hanzo's soul. Taking him, reverberating in his brain. Settling in his heart. Hanzo started to understand what it was that made him fall in love with this man. “But you seemed like the kind of person who didn't want to be bothered.”

“So then we officially met in the closet,” Hanzo added, dragging up the memory with a smile. Although everything he recollected never explained why either of them were in there to begin with. Just that it ended with the two of them together not only there, but back in this very apartment.

Jesse nodded, leaning to the side to return to his relaxed position. Chin rested in the palm of his right hand, his left coming to the black band that hung around his neck. Metal on metal, sliding with a cool chime. “We ended up at this party together. My friends knew your friends. You started having an anxiety attack, you had them a lot. Tried to hide...”

“And you followed me.”

“That I did.”

“The party,” Hanzo muttered, tearing his attention away from the details of Jesse's fingers. “It was at Angela's home, Fareeha lived there as well.” He looked up at the pictures along the wall, the one of the couple in the bar corner. So in love. “I understand they got married.” He pointed towards the wedding invitation tacked not far from the photograph. “Genji tells me they want to adopt a child.” All things Genji told him the previous morning. All things he was able to remember on his own.

The smile that once adorned Jesse's face faltered slightly as he turned to peer at the invitation on the wall. He looked over the picture nearby, then to the unchecked RSVP card. Addressed to no one in particular, but Jesse knew it belonged to Hanzo. Not even an option for a plus one. “I'm happy for them,” he muttered, turning his attention forward with a brief shrug. “Unfortunately, I don't remember them too well.”

Hanzo narrowed his eyes, but before he could even let a question slip, Jesse continued with, “Many of your friends and family didn't like me after we hooked up.” Jesse leaned his head back, glancing over his shoulder at the string of photos along the wall. Faces familiar to him, but names that escaped him so easily. Almost as easily as they fell from Hanzo's brain. “Said I wasn't good for you... they weren't exactly wrong.”

“Genji told me you made me very happy,” Hanzo threw out in defense, pressing a hand against his chest. His heart beat thumped heavily in his palm. Like there was actual blood pumping through his spirited form. He swallowed for a moment, loving the way it pounded against his fingertips.

“Probably did,” Jesse grunted with a side smirk, rolling his attention back towards his love. “He was about the only person who believe in us being together.” Genji believed in a lot of things. Like hanging out in an apartment for almost a year thinking his brother would wake up again. He was hopeful, and Hanzo wondered how he didn't break under pressure. “After the first accident, all your friends stopped talking to me.”

Hanzo narrowed his eyes, tilting his head. “First accident?”

“The accident,” Jesse corrected himself, shaking his head to knock some memories lose. “Sorry, my head's a little messed up after the accident. I was there too.” He paused, dragging his hand over his face. Rubbing at his chin and mouth with frustration. A sigh escaped into his palm before he replaced it with a gruff chuckle. Instinctively, he grabbed the black ring from his neck, kissing it gently to his lips. “Fared a lot better than you did, though.”

The room fell into an unwanted, but comfortable silence as Jesse stared towards the coffee table, admiring the items that laid atop it. Hanzo, in turn, admired every part of Jesse. Glancing over his tan skin, his eyes trailing to the scar of the right side of his lip where he pressed the black band. Followed the gold chain to the dip between his collar bone, over the rumpled collar of his blue plaid shirt. The metallic limb, curves, divots, and softly reflected light. He was a work of art.

“I want to show you something,” Jesse suddenly muttered, letting the ring fall back against his chest before he looked towards the slightly open bedroom door. He stood with his hands on his hips, nodding towards the room. “Come here.” His voice soothing, hand outstretched. Hanzo found it easy to follow his every motion as he allowed the cowboy to help him off the floor, whisked away towards his own bedroom with the firm grasp of his hand.

Sunlight poured into the bedroom from the open blinds, Hanzo staring out in the courtyard of the apartment complex. The window was at ground level with his apartment being on the bottom, halfway under ground. A stray orange cat skittered past the window, and he noticed the little dragon figurines in the window sill. Something he hadn't seen before in months. Perhaps because the blinds had been drawn for so long, but most likely because he couldn't recognize detail until now.

Jesse slid the leather bound book from the dresser top as Hanzo took a seat on the floor, leaning his back into the bed. With how his hand wavered into the coffee table, he was afraid to sit on anything that wasn't the ground, not wanting to fall through like the previous night. Jesse came to sit on the bed behind him, letting his knees straddle Hanzo's shoulder. He undid the golden sash from the book and leaned forward, placing it in Hanzo's hands. The book rested familiar in his spirited fingers, and for a moment he just admired the cover. Simple dark brown leather, rough around the corners, worn scratches on the binding. Looked older than it actually was, worn with love. He folded back the cover, staring at the figure on the first page. A woman, faceless. Emphasis on her posture, movement through her long limbs that stretched the page. Quick, light lines scattered against the yellowed paper. Numbers dating years back to a time when he must have been in high school. A hobby, not quite yet a passion.

He turned to the next page, another woman, no face. A dancer, pointed toes, poised fingers, heavier lines. Her body lunged across the page with the grace on angel. Another date, many months after the first one. The next page, a man this time, still with as much grace as the woman before. Again, dated many months after the one before. All his drawings spread so far apart. He wondered if there were books and pieces elsewhere that filled the gaps that this book didn't. “You never showered anyone this book,” Jesse hummed as he rested his elbows against Hanzo's shoulders, his chin pressing into the side of the man's head. Being this close to anyone would normally irritate him, he knew, but it felt very natural having Jesse slinging over him like this. He didn't want him to leave. “Cept me, that is.”

Hanzo continued to turn the pages, figure after figure with no faces, so many months apart. They gradually improved, the style changing minimally. But not enough improvement for someone who should have been drawing daily. The first handful of pages spanned over years, the same figures drawn multiple times. Little improvement, enough to be noticeable, but not enough to be great. He turned the page, cocking his head when he came across something different. A page of hands, multiple angles and scratchy lines. “This is the one you were working on when you sat in front of me,” Jesse muttered, drawing his finger down the center binding of the book. Hanzo took note of the date. About five years ago. They had known one another for five years. “Beautiful, right?”

“Yes,” Hanzo hummed back, admiring Jesse's hand against his book instead until the man drew it away. He turned the page, a sea of facial features. A cigarette between lips. Smiling eyes, strong jaw. Messages in Japanese. Difficult. Handsome. Dated just a week later than the previous page. “Beautiful.” The dates between pages grew more frequent than the first handful of drawings in the book, just weeks and days apart, some even on the same day. The jump in skill impressive as he continued to turn, noticing pieces he improved on. Eyes, hands. Smiles.

Feeling fingers suddenly run through his hair, Hanzo let out a sigh, realizing that Jesse was pulling his hair back. He coursed his fingers through the spirit's long locks, drawing it back to the top of his head. He carefully wrapped the golden sash around the ponytail, tying it messily and letting the sash fall down the man's back. “I know you hate wearing your hair down,” Jesse muttered with his lips rested against the base of Hanzo's neck. Warm and welcoming against his skin.

“Thank you,” Hanzo sighed, leaning back into the pursed lips against his skin. He shut his eyes for a moment, appreciate the goosebumps that now spattered his skin. Jesse's lips trailed from his neck to his ear, warm breath coursing over it. “Thank you...” he muttered again. For the stories, for the sketchbook, for the touch. It had been so long since he felt like a real person.

It was a long time since he felt such love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was about to say sorry for the delay in updating, but then I remembered that I'm incapable of a secure update schedule, and that I'm actually updating this much faster than anything I've ever posted in the past. This chapter kind of got away from me, and is the longest so far, and I even had to stop it short and transfer some of it to the next chapter. I personally liked it, even though it didn't offer too much info, but McHanzo sweetness. Thanks for your patience and all of the kudos, I'm really just totally blessed by ya'll.


	5. Chapter 5

The afternoon lazied on by, the two of them lounging in various parts of the house, digging through the bookshelf of Hanzo's old things. Sketchbooks filled with more figures, hands, facial features. Some filled with birds, mostly sparrows, and dragons. Color studies, rainbows of palettes. Pages of words, notes from class, intermingled with corner sketches. One horribly drawn picture of Hanzo by Jesse with more love than Hanzo had seen on any page of any book.

The two grew so occupied delving into the past and one another that Hanzo hadn't stopped to think of why Genji had all of his items. Certainly Hanzo and Jesse had a place of their own together where all this should have been by now. Five years and the three of them all clamored into this apartment? No, because Jesse would have been here in the past ten months. Jesse slid one of the last books into place back on the shelf, staring over where Hanzo was now lying on the floor on his stomach, flipping through pages of an art history text. Things he surely learned in the past five years, but information that had long since slipped from his brain with everything else. He spent ten months unable to touch anything on those shelves that any information, even if it weren't directly relevant to him, was interesting. “Think I'm getting tired, darlin'...”

“I'm sorry,” Hanzo hummed, closing the book and looking towards the clock on the wall. Almost eleven at night at this point. Time had flown by so fast. Genji still never made it home. Hanzo felt guilty for forgetting his absence. “Would you like to sleep?”

“If you come lay with me, yeah,” Jesse smiled, taking the book from beneath Hanzo's face. He popped it onto the shelf with the others, taking a stand in the center of the living room before wandering towards the bedroom. The time they spent together was mostly quiet reading, with occasional stories tied in. Hanzo still didn't understand much of his past, but every time Jesse would tell him a story, Hanzo felt himself admiring him more and more. Hopefully just as much in love as they were in the past. Along with everything else from the day, Hanzo found himself admiring the way those tight jeans wrapped around Jesse's thighs. He sighed, pushing from the floor to join him in the bedroom.

As the night before, Jesse didn't bother to strip down before hurling himself into bed. Still in his boots, jeans, and a shirt, arms cuddled around the pillows. A part of him knew that his past self would be offended should those dirty boots touch the bed. Now he was just more offended that Jesse didn't feel the need to remove his clothes when he slept. There was much more of him that Hanzo wanted to see, and a couple memories hadn't been good enough.

Hanzo carefully climbed into bed beside him, testing the mattress with a firm push of his palms. He didn't barrel through, his body coming to rest gently beside his lover. And like the night before, the second he hit the bed, Jesse was around him. Their legs tangled together, Hanzo's arms wrapped around his waist, Jesse's hand removing the golden sash that had been holding his hair up all day. His fingers raked through the locks, anxious and needy.

There were no apologies tonight. No room for them. Jesse pressed his lips into Hanzo's, stealing away his warm sigh of content. Clumsy, desperate, welcomed. His chest flourishing with heat and love he long since forgot. A feeling he never wanted to be without again. The hands that were once wrapped around Jesse's waist fled to the buttons on his blue plaid shirt, begging for release. But he couldn't quite get a grasp. He had forgotten for a moment that he was even a spirit, thinking it was his clumsy desire that was causing him to fumble.

He continued to work at the buttons, his fingers losing grip over and over until he grew too frustrated. He instead tried tugging the shirt from where it was tucked into Jesse's jeans. He wanted to touch him, more than just his hands and his hair. He wanted to feel skin, parts of his stomach that felt nice in his memories. His chest, legs, everything. But he couldn't get this stupid shirt off. “Remove this,” Hanzo moaned in irritation, gripping the fabric of the shirt within his fingers. The more he focused, the less he could grab until Jesse stopped kissing him, laughing too hard to move on.

“Don't think everything's gonna work the way you want it, darlin',” he muttered and Hanzo wrinkled his face in dissatisfaction. If they tried hard enough, perhaps eventually it would work, but even Hanzo had to admit that something didn't feel quite right. They were pressed against one another, but there were pieces still missing. There was only so much a spirit and a person could do together. “We should try leaving again tomorrow.” Jesse kissed his lover's forehead, Hanzo nuzzling his nose into the crook of his neck. “I have places I want to show you.”

Hanzo tensed his body in response, letting his arms slide to their place around Jesse's waist. He wanted to leave so badly, see the world outside his apartment. Find his body and come back. He wasn't even sure what kind of condition his body was in. He knew he was unconscious, but would returning to life even be good for him. After being in a coma for ten months, what kind of damage had he endured? Genji never liked to talk about it, or if he did, Hanzo hadn't remembered yet. He wanted to ask Jesse, but sitting in the quiet comfort felt much better.

Jesse shifted against the bed, carefully sliding himself from Hanzo's grasp. Slowly, carefully, with lips pressed against his forehead until he was away from him, legs draped over the side of the bed. “What is wrong?” Hanzo questioned, hand outstretched to grab the metallic hand. He interlaced their fingers, the black band gliding against metal. “Don't leave me,” he wanted to mutter, but kept those words to himself as Jesse just lingered against the edge of the bed.

Bringing Hanzo's hand to his lips, Jesse kissed the back of it. “I'll be right back,” he hummed against skin, leaving another kiss. On his knuckles, on the ring, his palm, his wrist. Kiss after kiss, full of devotion and a hint of guilt. “I promise I'll be right back...”

He let Hanzo's hand rest against the bed before pushing himself away, disappearing through the cracked bedroom door. Hanzo braced himself against the bed, ready to go pummeling through the blankets and mattress. But he didn't. His body remained on top, head rested into the comfort of the pillow. He clenched his fist around the bunched comforter. Cold in the space that Jesse once occupied, the two of them not resting long enough to collect warmth.

Although he had yet to fall through the bed, the anxiety that gathered in his body threatened to jump straight out of the room. Just days before, he would have longed to be alone. For Genji to leave him in the solitude of his quiet bedroom, lost in his thoughts. Begging to be gone of this world so he no longer had to suffer in this spirit purgatory. But now, after spending so much time with the man he loved, he couldn't take a second without him. “Please come back,” he muttered to himself, tightening his grip around the blankets. This bed felt lonely.

The room shifted into darkness and the cold lurking in the bed plummeted. He wrapped his arms around himself, aware of the throbbing in his hand. Fingertips wrapped around his own. Quiet security, leading him into another memory.

The temperature fell the deeper they delved into the quiet forest, dead leaves crunching beneath Jesse's heavy boots. He kept his gloved fingers wrapped tightly around Hanzo's for warmth and guidance. The world around them was so dark, the tall trees looming overhead, letting little moonlight shower down. Hanzo could not tell one direction from another and threw his blind trust in Jesse's warm fingers. As he often did in their last few months spent together. The sound of a creek trickled nearby, partially iced over as they headed into the coldest winter months.

“Once you get a couple miles in,” Jesse muttered, careful as they stepped beneath a low hanging branch, glancing back to see his lover's curious eyes in the nightfall. Face scattered with shadows of naked branches, moonlight pouring over his beautiful hair. Hanzo looked at up at him, then along the creek, squeezing his hand tightly. “There's a marker right... right here.” Jesse kicked at an old tired halfway grown into the ground, dirty and roots tangled within the old rubber. “About half a mile down that way is my home.” He signaled somewhere to the left and Hanzo peered through the darkness, unable to pick out the place. Nothing but gatherings of trees and dead branches. “Ever need to make it out alone, just find this thing then follow the creek out. Not hard if you know what you're looking for.”

“Thank you,” Hanzo muttered, keeping close as they wandered their way through the cold surroundings. He walked just inches behind Jesse, one hand wrapped within his, the other placed on his back, careful not to lose his footing. Hopefully he never had to leave this place alone, because everything looked about the same. If Jesse hadn't kicked at the tire, he would have never noticed it.

As they approached the half mile mark, Hanzo could see a small shack coming into view. Built up against a larger tree, nestled between high bushes that long since lost their green. No bigger than a tool shed, worn by weather, obviously built by unskilled hands. Quiet, tucked away, unknown. The safest place Jesse could hide himself.

“Here's home,” Jesse muttered with a smile, although his tone faltered. He drew his hand away from Hanzo's to fumble his keys out of his back pocket before undoing a giant lock that kept the shed door closed. He pushed open the door, wandering into his little home, pulling out a lighter.

Hanzo stood in the doorway, watching pieces of the little shack light up as Jesse lit candles all through the area. The shed was smaller than his bedroom, offering only a small padding of blankets and pillows on the floor as a bed, a desk like shelf nailed into one of the walls. Freezing, but no where to hook up a heater. No electricity, no lighting, not heat. A few belongings scattered the area, including a pile of clothes, some books, and a box of snacks. Not enough that anyone could safely live on.

“No one knows about this place, so don't go tellin' on me.” Jesse smiled as he lit the last candle, laying the cheap lighter atop the shabby shelf. He turned in his spot in the center of the shack, placing his hands on his hips as he stared back at Hanzo. He wasn't proud of his little home, but showing off wasn't exactly the reason they were here. “Try to keep it so no one knows I exist unless I want them to.”

“You want me to,” Hanzo thought to himself, stepping fully into the cramped quarters, shutting the door behind him. They lingered only feet apart, Hanzo coming to rest against the shelf hammered into the wall. He braced his hands against it, surprised when it was more sturdy than it looked. The home was sad. Bare. Dangerous. A person shouldn't have to live like this. “What is it that you do for a living?” Hanzo questioned with narrowed eyes, peering towards a half melted candle burning on top of the shelf.

Clearing his throat, Jesse peeled off his gloves, throwing them together with the pile of clothing in the corner. He rubbed them together before shoving them in his pockets, shrugging his shoulders. “Do favors for people,” he admitted casually, doing everything in his power to avoid looking Hanzo in the eye. “Owe some people money so I do what I can to get by.” He narrowed his eyes, a scoff of disbelief escaping his lips. As if he didn't mean to say that.

“What do you mean by favors?” Hanzo continued his visual journey through the small space, picking up more hints of Jesse's life. A few packs of cigarillos and cheap convenience store cigarettes near the bunched up pillow on the floor. Cowboy hat, old and torn at the edges. A glass jar, full of change, some of which not from this country. And a red sheet of fabric with gold trim. A shawl maybe. Tucked just beneath it was a gun.

Jesse didn't answer, responding only with a long groan of desperation. His shoulders bunched towards the heavens, eyes searching everywhere but Hanzo for answers. Hanzo grunted, setting his body straight from the shelf. “What is it that you do? Sell drugs? Are you a prostitute?” His voice fell heavy, throwing angered accusations. He laid his eyes against the gun meant to be hidden beneath the fabric, swallowing for a moment. “Do you kill people?”

“Oh, darlin',” Jesse muttered, rolling through a chuckle. He stepped forward, reaching out with his cold hand to draw it against Hanzo's face. Hanzo leaned his head back to avoid the touch, still with narrowed eyes. Jesse stepped back with a nod, shoving his hand back into his pocket. “It's not important what I do.”

“But it is!” Hanzo argued, letting his hands drop defensively at his sides. The two had seen each other off and on for the past few months since they started talking again after the hook up. Of course, most of it was rendezvous in hidden areas, including back at his apartment, a study hall at campus, and in the very parking lot where he caught Jesse with another woman. This little shack was meant to be the next addition to their list. And although he just continued to tell himself that it didn't mean much to the cowboy, he couldn't help the feelings gathering in his soul. Jesse was special. Hanzo wasn't this kind of person.

But there were still many things Hanzo didn't know about the object of his affection. He still knew next to nothing. “These are the things I need to know if I'm going to be in love with you.”

Silence filled the small shack as Jesse shifted his weight from one hip to the other, his hands slipping from his pockets. He licked his lip, at first giving a sigh of disbelief before replacing it with a laugh. A low laugh, sweet, surprised. “You what?” he questioned, his fingers scratching at the base of his neck. Hanzo stared at him, undeterred by the cowboy's nerves. Body straight, determined, arms crossed over his chest. “You don't really feel like that.”

The fire in his heart grew more rapid than the flames flickering throughout the small space. Hanzo's entire body, although stiff and serious on answers, trembled under the thought that this man didn't feel an ounce of what he did. After leading him along for the past few months. Pursuing him at the party. For what? It was obvious he could get sex anywhere he wished, but perhaps Hanzo was the easiest. Because he let him. Because he loved him. “Certainly you feel something?” he barked, letting a fist slam against the shelf. The candle rattled in its small metal container, a cigarette rolling to the floor. “You wouldn't go through so much trouble to keep someone around if you didn't.”

Still without words, Jesse let his shoulders relax, biting against his lower lip. His eyes read the room in a sense of surprise, not prepared for this conversation. Like the topic was taboo. After all, Hanzo had never said anything about it before. He wanted to, but could never bring himself to because his lips where occupied long before he could get anything out. “I think you're looking...” Jesse stared, swallowing as he searched for his words. He paused, sighing, starting over. “You're thinking too...” Paused again, linking his thumbs in his pockets. “You don't feel like that about me.”

“And you feel nothing of me?” Hanzo pressed, stepping forward to close the gap between them. Not close enough to touch, but close enough that Jesse could feel the heat radiating from his body, even in the bone chilling cold of the season. “You don't want people to know you exist, and yet you brought me here. I know what you brought me here for but... why here? There are plenty of other places, and you could have continued to keep this one secret.”

“Yeah, but that don't-”

“Be honest with me, Jesse,” Hanzo interrupted before a string of excuses could fumble out. Jesse immediately closed his lips, his body tensing upright as the shorter of the two leaned towards him. Dark hair framing his intense features, high cheekbones, sharp jawline. Intent eyes. Jesse let a shuddered breath escape before he brought his hand over his mouth, rubbing at his messy facial hair with his cold fingers. This wasn't going as he planned. “If you can't be honest with me, then I am leaving and this is coming to an end.”

Jesse narrowed his dark eyes in concern, cocking his head to the side with a slow, soft moan. “Aw, darlin', don't be like that,” he offered, reaching out to draw his hand down Hanzo's shoulder. Hanzo dodged it easily, still with his body standing tall, eyes never flinching.

“Honesty, or leave me be.” Hanzo clenched his fists at his side, his eyebrows knitting defensively as he watched the nervous panic spread over the man's face. The more they stood in silence, the more he watched his lover's demeanor crumble. Perhaps he did mean something. “I can't continue to be infatuated with someone who won't be honest with me.”

Jesse let his hand fall from his mouth, unable to hide the guilt that plagued his features. He reached out, letting his hands come to rest against Hanzo's shoulders as he let out a long, trembling sigh. For the first time since stepping into the little home, Hanzo allowed his touch, waiting on his baited breath. He could tell Jesse wanted to tell him something, but giving anyone insight on his life was a difficult task. Bringing him here must have been hard enough. Casual sex couldn't have been the only reason. “I do favors for people,” he admitted again, trying to keep his eye contact solid with Hanzo's, but found himself fumbling to keep still as he let the confessions bubble up.

Hanzo could feel his hands trembling against his shoulders, letting his body ease up a bit and tearing down his defense. “I do sell things to college kids. They're idiots. They don't know they're paying overprice for basic stuff. Just things like weed, ecstasy. Stuff that college kids eat up because they have nothing better to do.” He rolled his eyes towards somewhere behind him where Hanzo assumed a stash of it was hidden. “Don't do the stuff myself, already busy killing my lungs with cigarettes, but we all have our vices.” Hanzo reached out, letting his hands press against Jesse's stomach, casually spreading his fingers over the thick flannel jacket.

“You don't need to do that,” Hanzo thought to himself, letting the intensity on his face dim as he listened. Both the selling and the smoking. They lived different lives. Hanzo never struggled with money thanks to his family. He didn't know what it was like.

“This is my home, but... it's not good in the winter. Just a place for me to hide.” Jesse let his hands slide down Hanzo's arms until he linked their fingers. Jesse's freezing digits entwined with Hanzo's gloved hands. “So I sleep my way around campus. Sometimes for a meal, most the time for a place to stay. Sometimes for money.” Since the first time they were together the night of the party, Jesse had been in his apartment. But he never stayed long. Long enough to get his fill before he suddenly had elsewhere to be. His story wasn't adding up. Jesse paused, letting a crooked smile grace his face, a puff of fog escaping with half a laugh. “You're honestly the first person I've slept with in a long time... without bad intent.” Jesse's fingers tightened, his thumbs rubbing over Hanzo's knuckles. Softly, carefully, warmth spreading from his fingertips. Hanzo wanted to remove his own gloves just to feel his skin. “I felt guilty staying at your place, so I ran. Every time.”

“I wondered,” Hanzo mumbled, hesitant to remove his gloves because it would force Jesse to let go.

“Tried getting a normal job, but turns out places don't like hiring ya if they know you've been in jail before. Just for dumb things. Stealing. Drug possession...” Another laugh. Nervous, higher than his normal. As if he expected Hanzo to just turn around and high tail it out of the forest in an instant. Obviously he had some inkling that there was a wild streak in Jesse, but not things this bad. These were the kind of things that chased people away. These were the kind of things that kept him alone all his life. “I don't tell anyone this, you know? No one.”

Hanzo closed his eyes, sealing the gap between them and pressing his forehead against Jesse's. He lingered for a moment, just sharing the warm breath between their lips. Jesse nervous, body shaking at everything he admitted. Hanzo calm, collecting the information he was handed. Although surprising, reassured knowing Jesse felt that information safe with him. Saddened, because a man should not have to live like this. “Come live with me,” Hanzo muttered, finally opening his eyes. Voice soft, soothing. “From now on, you will live with me. Not here. I can help you start over.”

“Hanzo,” Jesse groaned, which came out more like a tearful whine, his attention rolling towards the ceiling. Now even his voice was shaking. “I can't just do that. I'm wrapped up with some bad people and I don't want you getting involved.”

“Then just leave them.”

“I can't just cut ties with these people,” Jesse returned, taking his hands away from Hanzo's. He threw them wildly at his sides, spinning on his heel to face away from Hanzo for a moment. He rubbed at his face with the back of his hand before his hands came to rest on his hips. “Doesn't work like that. These people are dangerous.”

Hanzo huffed, stretching his abandoned fingers. The small crackle of a candle popped through the little space and he watched the way the light danced off Jesse's body. Shadows licking his clothes, hiding the tremble in his form. “Then cut ties with me.” Hanzo's voice fell sharp, cutting through the cold air like a knife. “I can't do this anymore. You have been dragging me along for nothing.”

“I'm not dragging you along...” Defeat wrecked Jesse's throat. He peered over his shoulder, fluttering his eyes towards the floor in shame. “Hanzo, I'm not...”

Hanzo stared over the sad surroundings. The single comforter on the floor, pillow bunched in the corner. Only a handful of clothes, dirtied, throw on the floor. Cigarettes, change not even good in this country. A gun. For protection, hopefully. The only thing that could keep him safe, but probably not for long. “I can't stand back knowing you live like this. It hurts my heart.”

Another chuckle. Rough, humble. Scared. “You really love an idiot like me?”

Hanzo nodded slowly, although Jesse was not looking his way. It was obvious love was not a word in his vocabulary. At least not aimed in his direction. Not that Hanzo fully grasped the concept himself, he had never felt this way about someone in his entire life. Too focused on school, on being successful. Not much of thinking for himself. Perhaps he was rushing too fast. Maybe he was eating up the attention because McCree had been the only one to give it. Jesse was special. “You are a much better person than you think you are,” he muttered, reaching out to place his hand on Jesse's back. Even through layers of fabric, he could feel all the tension drop from the man's body, leaving his mouth in a puff of warm air. “Has no one told you that?”

“If I lived with you, things won't be easy. The people I run with... they ain't kind, and I owe them a lot.” Hanzo's hand traveled from the spot between Jesse's shoulder blades to his lower back. He snaked both arms forward, drawing the man back towards him until his chest was pressed into his back. “I don't want to put you in danger.”

Hanzo laid a kiss against the back of Jesse's neck, just below the feathered ends of his rusty hair. “I understand,” he breathed, linking his hands together over his man's stomach. He felt Jesse's fingers fold over his, lightly at first. But then with more force, holding them there, pulling them up over his heart. Thumping through layers of thick flannel and heavy gloves. Chest shuddering, breath ragged with threatening emotions. “I will do whatever it takes to keep us safe.” Jesse drew up Hanzo's hands, pressing his lips into them. “I want to take care of you.”

Sudden, rushing as fast as the love that flooded into his heart in the past few months, Jesse turned around, grabbing Hanzo by the cheeks. Fingers no longer bitter cold from the winter air, warmed by time and Hanzo's blushing cheeks. Lips crashing together, more desperate than the first night they met. Hanzo backed into the rickety shelf built into the wall, swallowing every inch of his lovers lips with a pleased moan. It wasn't a move to glaze over the situation. It wasn't Jesse trying to brush over everything he admitted. It was his appreciation, his quiet acceptance that he too felt something pretty powerful for Hanzo. But he wasn't able to convey it in proper words just yet.

“Promise me you won't run,” Hanzo mumbled between heated kisses, eyes closed.

Jesse kissed the corner of his lip, then the high part of his cheek, his forehead, his temple. Everywhere he could possibly lay his lips to show adoration. “Promise,” he returned with a small choke in his throat and he firmly rested his forehead against Hanzo's. Their rapid fumbling slowed as they rolled through a few more passionate kisses, coming to a calm rest against the wooden shelf. The candles flickered around them, melting soft scents of warm vanilla and deep cinnamon. Jesse reached up with his left hand, rubbing at the dampness surrounding his eyes with his knuckles. A low hum vibrated in his throat. “I didn't bring you here to get all emotional,” he muttered as he lingered before his love, a single hand against Hanzo's cheek as he let out a warm breath. Hanzo smiled, the corner of his lip perking, intrigued. Body pinned against the shelf, Jesse's hips bearing into his. He could feel his arousal from the heated moment prodding through his jeans, eager for his touch.

“I know why you brought me here.” Hanzo pulled off his gloves despite the frigid temperature, intent on heating them quickly with other means. He drew his hands beneath his partner's heavy coat, beneath layers of clothes, until he pressed against the warm contours of Jesse's stomach. The man squirmed beneath his cold fingertips, trying to ward off a laugh at his avoidance of touch.

“Jesus, darlin', you hands are cold,” the cowboy squealed through a sigh when Hanzo pinched him beneath the fabric, his thumb circling his immediately erect nipple.

A smile crawled to Hanzo's like similar to a sly fox. “Warm them, then,” he demanded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was going to be a little longer because I was just going to keep rolling into the next part, but then I realized that the next part was going to take me a bit to write, and I didn't want to keep everyone waiting on a chapter. Some more back story here, and we all know what's coming next. ;) Thank you all for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos. I'm really very blessed by the feedback and it keeps me writing! THANK YOU. YOU'RE ALL THE BEST.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends, here is the next installment, and the entire thing is NSFW. :) Feel free to skip this chapter if you're not about that nonsense, as it's mostly just... smut and fluff.

The small cabin chilled in the middle of the secluded, frozen forest in the oncoming winter. But it didn't take long for things to heat up. Hanzo slid anxious fingers from beneath his lover's shirt, intent on stripping down rather than keeping warm. He yanked the zipper of Jesse's jacket, pulling it down to help him shuffle out of the thick flannel. The second he caught a patch of exposed skin, Hanzo attacked, hungry and desperate for more touch. He drew his lips against the hollow of Jesse's neck as the man leaned his head back, giving a moan towards the ceiling. The flannel jacket hit the floor, and Jesse shivered. More because of teeth against skin than the cold.

Little by little, they shed one another of their clothing. Hanzo of his heavy, dark green coat and backpack, Jesse of his over-shirt and tank until he was standing in nothing but boots and tight jeans. Hanzo bit his lip, breaking his trail of wandering lips to catch a glimpse of his man's body in the flickering candle light. Shadows dancing off muscles and stomach, illuminating his darker skin. Skin begging for touch, bulge of arousal yearning for release. With a low growl of desire, Hanzo palmed the crotch of Jesse's jeans, his other hand grasped in the man's hair, forcing eye contact. As well as Jesse could hold through half lidded eyes and a frustrated moan.

“Nu-uh,” Jesse grunted, grabbing Hanzo by the wrist and forcing his hand away from his pants, as much as he wanted it inside his jeans. “I owe you first.”

“You owe me nothing.” A slow kiss, tasting of winter air and the cigarette Jesse smoked on the car ride to the edge of the forest. Their lips parted, Hanzo indulging in the scent of the dripping vanilla candle burning beside him, his tongue hanging on the last flicker of breath from his lover's throat. “But I won't object.” He smirked, letting his hand slide from the back of Jesse's head to his cheek. For a moment, he rested his fingers there, his thumb just below the man's bottom lip. A scar pressed into the right side of his lip, a story for another day. Framing his face with his palm, staring into Jesse's dark honey eyes. Every inch of him like a work of art from his text books. An image he could never recreate himself no matter how hard he studied.

Jesse released Hanzo's wrist, his hands coming to the back of Hanzo's thighs just below his rear. In one swift movement, he lifted him and propped him onto the rickety shelf, drawing his hips between Hanzo's thighs. The once lit candle toppled to the floor, spilling white wax over the aged wood. Hanzo braced his back against the wall, one hand against the shelf, the other returning to the back of Jesse's head. Desperately gripping rusty hair for support, staring down where their bodies crashed together at the waist. Anxiety built in his stomach, a tense pull that dragged to his groin. “Is this secure?” he muttered, afraid to move should the shelf suddenly detach itself from the wall.

“Secure 'nough.” Jesse laughed at the apprehension on his lover's face, giving the shelf a firm press from the top to make sure it wouldn't give way. “You can just keep pullin' my hair if you think you're gonna fall.” Jesse left a kiss on the side of Hanzo's jaw. “Know you like holdin' onto it anyway,” he whispered with a breathless smirk before dipping his body lower, replacing his begging hips with his shoulders, coming to kneel on the floor. He kissed the man's stomach just above the waistband of his pants, pushing his shirt up out of the way.

Hanzo watched with a hitch in his throat at the meticulous way Jesse kissed along his skin. On his hip bone, with full lips and a nip of teeth. The inside of his thighs up to his knees, then back down again. Just below his navel. Everywhere but the one place he wanted to be touched. Even through fabric, Hanzo could feel the heat dripping from his lips. He gripped Jesse's hair tight between his fingers, bucking his hips forward in anticipation. Teeth sunk into his lower lip, holding back grunts of frustrations. Jesse rolled through a chuckle, glancing up with a devious smirk rested just above Hanzo's swollen arousal. “Sure are pretty when you want me like this,” he mused and Hanzo let his hips fall back against the shelf like desk, trying to tame his eagerness.

“You said you owe me first,” Hanzo said with a tinge of impatience. “Do not tease.”

“I owe you, but I ain't ever said I'd be quick about it.” Jesse linked his fingers in the waistband of Hanzo's pants, jerking them down only slightly to reveal the hem of his boxers and a bit more hip bone. “You're the one who likes all that foreplay. Why you complainin'?

“It is cold,” Hanzo argued, not the reason in the least. He did like foreplay, but only when he was giving it because he liked to see Jesse squirm. Wasn't as fun when he was on the receiving end of restless torture.

Jesse cocked his head, looking between himself and Hanzo for a second. “Oh, honey, I know. I'm standin' here in just my pants.” Standing up straight, Jesse strayed his hips back between Hanzo's legs, pressing into him. Wavering for a second, making sure to weigh in heavier at the rise in his pants. “Speaking of, think it's time for these to come off...” he muttered, pulling at the belt loops of his lover's pants. Unhooking the button, slipping the pants partially down Hanzo's thighs. He stopped, showing off another devious smirk. “Or maybe they're fine like this.”

“Jesse.” A moan of warning, another small upwards thrust. One less layer of clothing around his aching erection, still no release.

“What darlin'?” Jesse's smile radiated through his voice, teasing and tempting. Dripping with lust, an erotic playfulness that both enamored and irritated Hanzo. “Am I bein' mean? I thought you loved me.”

Hanzo let out a shuddered sigh, the grip through Jesse's hair lightening for a second at his words. “I-I do,” he mumbled, aware of the nerves suddenly flooding his body, a blush hotter than any fire spreading against his skin. Was he picking fun at him?

“Good,” Jesse hummed back, burying his face in the crook of Hanzo's neck. He laid sweet kisses against his skin, on his earlobe, one to the side of his jaw. A breathless laugh, a pleasing hum. “Cause I love you.” Hanzo brought his other hand to the side of Jesse's face, tightening his legs around his hips for support. The two shared a slow, deep kiss, the warmth from their bodies filling the small shack. Stealing heat from the candles, illuminating the space with the glow of affection. “Oh, god, Hanzo, do I love you.”

Unable to sit back and wait any longer, Hanzo let his body slip from the shelf, forcing Jesse back against the opposite wall in a clumsy stumble. Their bodies melted together in a mess of fumbling hands and traveling lips. Hanzo finished removing his shoes and pants, kicking them somewhere behind him, joining the abandoned coats and gloves. “Ah, but Han-” Jesse tried through a break in their incessant kissing.

“No more waiting,” Hanzo ordered with his hands eagerly working at the heavy belt buckle keeping Jesse's pants in place. “I want you now.” He loosened the belt enough that he could unhook the button and zipper, helping Jesse free of his tight constraints until his jeans were puddled at his ankles. Jesse nodded with his jaw dropped slightly, open lips anxious for his partner's. As slow as he wanted to take things initially, he was a sucker for Hanzo's demanding impatience.

The two sank to the floor, Jesse lying back against the flimsy bedding sprawled over the hard wood. He ignored the discomfort, a struggle he was used to at this point, attention focused on his man crawling over him. Hanzo knelt just before him, quickly removing the remainder of his clothes, shirt and boxers thrown to the side. It didn't matter how many times he saw this man in the buff, Jesse had to stare, licking his lips at the glorious sight before him.

Hanzo leaning forward, long midnight hair dangling in his face, held back at his shoulders by that golden sash. Deep blue and gold tattoo sewn into his thick arm like a tapestry, flooding onto his chest. Defined muscles coated in soft candle light, the starting of sweat pooling against his skin, trailing over his stomach and curving down his hips. Erection heavy against his thigh, aching in waiting. Jesse swallowed when Hanzo cocked an eyebrow, eyeing his still cloth covered package with silent orders to remove his clothes. Jesse did as he was signaled, slipping out of his boxers and letting them join the other gathering of clothes.

Hanzo crawled over his lover's body, pushing his hips against the underside of Jesse's thighs. They shared another long, quiet kiss as Hanzo absently reached somewhere beside him for his backpack, blindly unzipping pockets for what he needed. He fished out a bottle of lube, followed by a little foil packet. Jesse reached out for the condom, but Hanzo was quick to hold it away from him, bunching his palm around it. “Unless you intend to put it on me, this is not for you,” he hummed, drawing his other hand down Jesse's chest, resting it just above his navel. The way his eyes narrowed, matching the hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his lip. Jesse's cock twitched in anticipation, nodding his head with a needy sigh.

“I ever tell you how much I love it when you take-” Jesse began, promptly interrupted when Hanzo brought the packet to his lips, forcing him to take it in his mouth.

“Hush,” Hanzo whispered. Jesse bit down against the corner of the packet, ready to spit it out when Hanzo warned, “Drop it and I'll be the one to take things slow.” Jesse wanted to retort about Hanzo being the impatient one, but didn't want to risk opening his mouth to stall things any longer. He instead arched his back, hands against Hanzo's firm chest, watching the man pop the cap on the bottle of lube. He poured a generous amount over his fingers, setting it to the side while sliding his hand between Jesse's legs.

Hanzo tested Jesse's entrance with a single slick finger, pressing in just an inch before drawing back out. Then in again once more, enjoying the way his man squirmed just under the smallest touch. Pushing himself onto his knees, he leaned over Jesse with lips just barely out of the man's reach, the condom packet coming between them. He kissed the underside of his chin, biting at neck and tongue gliding across skin for only just a moment. The guttural moan bubbled from Jesse's stomach all the way up to his throat, vibrating against Hanzo's curved lips.

Jesse shuddered with each slow, tormenting draw of Hanzo's fingers, his mind attempting to focus on that, the lips on his neck, and keeping his mouth shut. The last one not an easy task for him under any circumstance. “Now you're teasin',” Jesse moaned through gritted teeth, careful not to drop the foil. Hanzo warned him into silence with a harder nip along his neck, withdrawing his fingers and firmly dragging his nails up the underside of his lover's thighs. Jesse trembled, pressing his legs tighter into Hanzo's waist.

“I said hush,” Hanzo muttered, the vibrations from his words trailing over the love bitten skin on Jesse's neck. He flicked his tongue against the reddened flesh, then leaning his head back to seal eye contact. Intense, determined eyes. Open, needy mouth begging for a kiss, knowing that his lover shouldn't return it. Jesse let out a puff of heated breath through his nose, the packet still dangling from his teeth. Hanzo drew his fingers back towards Jesse's wanting entrance, two now, filled to the hilt. Slick, slow, each fluid pump a sign of what to come.

Hanzo's free hand crept between the two of them, wrapping around Jesse's bold cock. Slow at first, like the movement of his fingers inside of him. Jesse clenched his teeth tighter, feeling every muscle in his being tense as he took on another sensation. Staying quiet wasn't going to happen. “Darlin', baby,” he moaned through gritted teeth, throwing his head back against the flat pillow and thin blanket on the floor. Hanzo bit back his smile of wicked intent, sitting up straight to get a better grasp on his lover. He slid his hand along Jesse's length, quicker with more intensity from base to tip. “Hanzo, please-” His words sputtered off in a choked moan that almost dropped his jaw, but he reminded himself not to drop the condom. Although it didn't matter now. It was apparent Hanzo would be taking his time regardless.

Jesse rolled his hips eagerly in rhythm with Hanzo's hands, ready to have his lover throbbing inside him. He hated foreplay. Well, he didn't hate it. It was something he never did with previous partners, his nature to get things over with and done so he could get what he needed. But Hanzo was so good at it, amazing at making him feel like he could explode at any moment. Teasing him without words, tying his stomach in knots with just looks. His chest filled with burning breath, each delicate stroke against his desperate member sending him that much closer to climax. He used to think it was sad how little Hanzo had to do to make him hard so quick. Now he just called it talent.

Hanzo leaned forward, removing the packet from his lovers mouth with his own teeth. Jesse immediately spilled into a plethora of protesting moans when his partner removed his fingers, instead busying his hands with opening the packet. “Hanzo-ooo...” Jesse whined, watching the man roll the condom onto his length, taking extra care in his precautions. Stalling, because he loved to watch Jesse beg.

Readying his hips for the next moment, Hanzo drew his hands along the underside of Jesse's thighs, pushing back his legs. He leaned forward with partially open lips, lustful breaths dripping from his mouth. “What is wrong, darling?” Hanzo mused, pressing his forehead into his lover's. Jesse groaned at the unusual use of a pet name, loving the way his common place term sounded on Hanzo's sweet voice. The man pushed his hips forward, teasing Jesse's entrance with the head of his cock, enough pressure to make him groan, but not enough to satisfy. “Am I being mean?”

“Yeah, you are,” Jesse huffed back with a snarled curl of his lip, hands grabbing for hips. His course fingers gripped Hanzo's slick skin, thumbs digging into hip bones, nails digging into flesh. He tried to drag his boyfriend into him, but Hanzo was persistent in making him wait. 

“I thought you loved me...”

Jesse met his partner's eyes before Hanzo closed them, a devious but calm smile spread across his face. He loved him alright, every part of him. His parted lips held just breaths away from Jesse's, eyebrows knitted in peaceful concentration. The stray hair that framed his ethereal features, the cascade of black locks that ran against his shoulders and into the flood of blue and gold of the dragon that swirled down his arm. Strong hands just beneath his knees, body pressing him into place. Careful, teasing, every movement prepared and intentional.

“I do,” Jesse muttered back, a shock running down his spine when Hanzo opened his eyes. He loved him, everything about him. The way he worked with his hands, whether it be in a sketchbook or on his body. His ability to tease without words, just sharp looks from dark eyes. A bite of the lip, a side smirk. Jesse was so smitten he almost forgot to breathe. “Oh, how I do...”

Hanzo leaned over him, letting a long, warm breath spread between them. With little resistance, he entered him with a tugging smile, loving the way Jesse's eyes winced in the initial flood of pleasure. Jesse whimpered from the base of his throat, rolling his hips with each gentle draw. Just a little bit at a time until his body eased enough to allow Hanzo in completely. His hips developed a slow rhythm, just a little at first, more and more each time he dove back in. “Ah, sugar,” Jesse swallowed, leaning his head back to where it touched the pillow, so hard that he could almost feel the floor. He arched his body, wanting all space between them gone. Biting his lip so hard, it almost turned purple. “Sugar, darlin'...” Grunts of desire through gritted teeth. “Baby...”

Hanzo let his hand slide down from the bottom of Jesse's thigh, letting one leg ease against his hip. Skin on warm skin, sweat gathering against their hips, in Jesse's needy palms, down Hanzo's strong chest. He brought his hand against Jesse's cheek, his thumb over his lips. Jesse took it as a signal to keep quiet, as he was often warned when a string of pet names came fleeing from his lips. He couldn't help it. When his lover made him feel this good, it was the only way he could think of showing his affection. If he could get the words out past the moaning. Hanzo's pace quickened, drawing all the way out before slamming back inside. Jesse choked back a moan, sliding his arms around Hanzo's neck and tightening his knees around his waist to feel every inch of him against his skin. 

“You are beautiful,” Hanzo blurted out through a thick grunt, his voice low and guttural. Rolling from his throat like thunder. Something Jesse had never been told before, especially like this. He probably looked like a mess, disheveled hair, flushed cheeks, eyes rolled back when Hanzo refused to let up on his deep thrusts. His eyes fluttered closed just hearing the man's tone drop in the midst of rapid pleasure, unable to respond with anything but whining. He was going to lose it right there. He loved him. He loved him more than he had realized before this movement. 

Their lips wrapped together and Hanzo's movement slowed, as if it took everything in him just to concentrate on their kiss. His arms slid beneath Jesse's back to bring him close to his chest, his unsteady heart threatening to beat through his skin as he pressed the man against the wall. Jesse's weight settled in his lap and he writhed against him, driving his partner deeper inside him. Slow, desperate, stomach tightening as hard as the grip Jesse held on his hair. Hanzo hungrily attacked his mouth, strong arms squeezing tight around his back. Sweat dripped down Jesse's neck and between his shoulders, the heat dancing between their bodies. He rolled his hips forward with him, using the crevasse their bodies created to please his own hard arousal. He wanted nothing more than to fill every gap between them.

“F-fuck, darlin',” Jesse called out during a brief breath between their clumsy lip lock, Hanzo jutting his hips upward. He leaned his head forward, burying his mouth into the crook of Jesse's neck, returning to the swollen spot of love kissed skin he abandoned earlier. He moaned his curses into the reddened skin, each fluid pump of his hips driving him that much closer to ecstasy, Jesse responding with easily louder cries of need. The cowboy drug his nails down his man's back, leaving faded red along sweat glistened skin, before sliding his hand between the two of them. He needed release, and the curves of their hips and stomachs weren't doing it. “Talk to me, baby,” he begged while wrapping his fingers around his aching erection, pleasing himself to the rhythm of their grinding hips.

A breath hitched in Hanzo's throat and for a moment, he just buried his lack of words in the sweat coated skin along Jesse's neck. He wasn't much for talking, and he made that apparent often. But dirty talk made him nervous because he was much better at talking with his hands. His pressed his lips into the familiar spot of teased flesh, sucking against it until it turned dark light the night sky. Jesse huffed from his nose at the sting on his skins, shutting his eyes and tightening his grip around his cock. “Hanzo, please,” his raspy voice continued to plead.

Hanzo's lips trembled, releasing the patch of darkened skin before he drew them up towards his partner's ears. He nipped at the earlobe, letting out a low moan that reverberated through Jesse's soul. “Come for me,” he breathed, his voice no louder than the flickering candles that decorated the small shack. But Jesse heard him loud and clear, the lust driven whisper dripping into his ear like the moisture gathering between their bodies. “Show me how I make you feel...”

Jesse gave a breathless nod, his hands moving just as quick as Hanzo's hips, eyes fluttering as he reached the brink of his orgasm. The pressure erupted through his body, stomach tightening, legs shaking around Hanzo's waist. “Come for me, Jesse,” he beckoned again in a wave of shaking breath and the man thought he was going to lose it right then and there. Hanzo's voice came out husky, thick from the base of his throat. Jesse didn't know his name could sound so greedy on someone's tongue.

Leaning his head back, Hanzo returned to his position of forehead pressed against Jesse's, parted lips begging for his staggered breath. He had given his words, and now he wanted what was asked of the cowboy. Jesse stared at him through half lidded eyes, watching the way the candlelight danced across his face. That smile, teeth biting against his bottom lip. Jesse had never felt so desired in his entire life. He felt his legs buckle, his heart picking up pace. Thickness throbbing inside him, fluidly drawing in and out. His breath choked out in loud, desperate whimpering, and Hanzo let him. Smiling in that devious way when they were up to no good. Hanzo watched the quiver in Jesse's lip, familiar with the pull on his face that the cowboy couldn't ride much longer. Jesse bucked his hips, Hanzo's stare so intent that his heart wanted to bust free.

Jesse's entire body tensed and then it happened. That familiar wave of euphoria that greeted him sweetly any time they laid together. But as always, seemingly more intense than the last time, as each time just felt better. Jesse almost screamed, but Hanzo's lips swallowed his the second he called out. His surprised moaning filled Jesse's throat when he kissed him with enough intensity to make up for every moment they never knew one another. Warmth dribbled against his stomach, but Hanzo didn't give way, wanting to get his while Jesse rode out the waves of his pleasure.

Hanzo grasped the thick underside of Jesse's thighs, pressing back his legs to drive his hips in for a final deep thrust, a loud groan spilling from his lips into Jesse's wanting mouth. His member throbbed inside his partner, hips and hands shuddering against his thighs.

The candles burned out, leaving no trace of smoke, darkness surrounding him as Hanzo clung dearly to Jesse's body. The frost bitten winter of the outside shack morphed into the quiet confinement of his apartment bedroom. Fully clothed, Jesse still warm around him. Hands through his loose long hair, lips against his forehead. Hanzo tried to still his breath, knowing he just darted from a memory long behind him. Much longer and more vivid than any memory he had drawn up thus far. Filling his entire soul with a love he didn't know was possible. His arms trembled and he feared letting go, should Jesse slip away from him, despite sleeping in his arms. “I love you,” he muttered instinctively to Jesse's peacefully unconscious form, and Jesse stirred, arms wrapping tighter around his lover's body. Like he belonged there, holding him up, keeping him grounded.

Like he belonged in this world he felt so detached from since the accident. Jesse mumbled something in his sleep and Hanzo wondered if he even had an inkling of all the memories that just crashed through his brain. He kissed his forehead, drawing his body closer to steal the warmth that swelled between them. He never wanted to lose this feeling. He never wanted to let Jesse go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank for reading! Just a heads up, I get the new Dangan Ronpa this week, so I'll probably be spending all my time playing that (because I have a problem :D), and then I'll be dog sitting for a couple weeks at a coworker's house. Hopefully I won't stall too hard on the next chapter, but I think I've been spoiling you guys with quick updates. So in the event that I don't update for a while, that's where I'm at! THANKS FRIENDS. YOU'RE THE BEST. YOU KEEP ME WRITING. <3


	7. Chapter 7

The two spent the morning after the memory lounging in bed, Hanzo watching the way the rising sun pooled into his quiet room. How Jesse breathed softly as he drifted in and out of sleep. The way that even just lazying with his eyes closed made him feel fully rested as long as he was within his love's arms. Hanzo never slept, incapable since the accident, but the hazy peace calmed his mind.

Hanzo slowly adjusted his body in attempts to pull his arm from beneath Jesse's head, knowing that if he were a real person, his arm would be full of sleepy tingles. He paused, taking more time to admire the man slumbering against him. His face buried half into the pillow, mostly in the crook of Hanzo's neck. The gold chain caught in the undone button of his loose collar. Hanzo reached out, drawing his free hand along the chain, the comfort of the black engagement band heavy between his fingers. He compared it to his own, the only difference in the color of the small stones. Golden topaz, glowing in the light of the flooding sunrise. A soft compliment to the dark, deep blue of his own ring.

He let the chain come to rest against Jesse's chest, but not before noticing the kink in one of the links. It looked almost broken, the metal bent and chipped off, like it could snap at the lightest movement. Despite the pull in the necklace, it remained intact and the ring never slid from place. “What you doin'?” Jesse groaned with a sleepy smile, his arms instinctively tightening around his lover, lips pressed into his neck.

“Perhaps we should wake up,” Hanzo sighed, reluctant. He could lay in this bed all day if it meant resting in warm tranquility. But lounging around would get them nowhere and they had already come so far since the morning Jesse stepped foot in his apartment. “If you're ready to wake up, that is...”

“I guess,” Jesse groaned, still not budging from his spot. Eventually the two made slow movement out of bed, feeling the constant need to be connected in some way. Jesse tying up Hanzo's hair before they left the bed, Hanzo linking his fingers into Jesse's back pocket as they wandered into the living room. He hesitated letting go, afraid of losing him in a second.

As they passed into the hallway, Hanzo glanced towards his brother's open bedroom door, finding that his younger sibling wasn't inside. Bed neatly made for once, fan still running. Empty. He peered into the living room, and then the connecting kitchen, finding that same thing. Emptiness. “Where is Genji?” he muttered to himself out loud. A strange pang of guilt staggered into his heart and he pressed his free hand against his chest. Certainly Genji wasn't upset that his brother had been ignoring him over the past two days. After all, he was the one who brought Jesse around, right? He was probably just giving them time together alone. And finally spending some time on his own for once in ten long months.

“I don't remember hearing him come back since yesterday. Don't know.” Jesse shrugged, stretching out his arms to pull the sleep from his tired body, ending in a loud yawn.

“Perhaps he is at the hospital with my body to see if there is any improvement.” The temporary remorse settled in his heart, leaving him with a distant pain. He took in a slow breath, shutting his eyes to collect himself. “Have you seen my body since you've seen my spirit?”

Jesse tilted his head, scratching his fingers through his messy bed hair before he looked back towards his lover. Just as much guilt plagued his face as it did Hanzo's chest. “I've been with you most the time. Ain't got a chance.” Except the night he disappeared without reason, but surely that would not be a time to visit the hospital. He wondered what he looked like, if he looked better. If there was any improvement. If he was that much closer to a complete person again. “Think we should try leavin' the apartment again. I have a feeling the best way to get you to wake up is to bring you to your body.”

The two lingered in the center of the living room, Jesse staring over his shoulder at the closed apartment door. The only barrier keeping Hanzo confined in this small, but now blooming apartment. The walls felt like a prison, even with new items and memories flooding into his sights. He didn't know what waited for him on the other side or if seeing his body would actually wake him up. “But if it starts to hurt,” Jesse dragged up in a low mutter, drawing his attention back towards his lover. He reached out, linking his hand within Hanzo's, the metal of his appendage clinking against the black band on his finger. Hanzo narrowed his eyes at the sound, the sound of contact against his ghostly form. “You let me know, and we stop. I don't want to have to tackle you to the ground again, you hear?”

“Understood,” Hanzo sighed, squeezing tighter around his grip. Yesterday hadn't fare so well, but even with just a day, he felt a stronger connection that could drag him through the door. For months, he had no will to leave this place. The fear of the unknown outside those apartment walls dwindled his hope. He still didn't know, it could still be hopeless. But with his hand held so fondly, things didn't seem quite as pointless.

Jesse opened the front door into the empty stairwell of the apartment, hesitating as he lingered within the doorway. Hanzo swayed behind him, anxiety and excitement building in his spirited form. He felt a worlds worth of confidence that this time he could escape, but who knew until he actually crossed the door frame. And once he was on the other side, how far could he go? He swallowed down the insecurities, narrowing his eyes on the bottom of the stairwell.

Stepping through easily as any human would, Jesse kept his hand tight around Hanzo's still within the parameters of the living room. He held his arm outstretched there for a moment, staring up into the three flights of stairs towards the top floor. “Trick is to think of your reason for leaving,” he muttered, as if he had walked many spirits through the same process. He sounded so sure of himself. There was no speculation, just his hard word that this would work. Hanzo trusted him, although he was sure his lover had not dabbled in the safety of spirits. “Not the leaving itself. Why you need to leave...”

Somewhere miles away lay his body, waiting to rejoin his spirit. “Think about where we need to go,” Jesse continued to offer with another tight squeeze of Hanzo's hand, tugging him just slightly towards the door frame. Hanzo took a defiant step, his form tense as he tried to pull his thoughts from the door frame. And how badly it could still hurt to push through the barrier. He could harbor the pain for sure, but even pushing through never got him into the stairwell.

“I have places special to us I want to show you,” Jesse breathed then through a crooked smile. His voice quiet, softness conflicting with the gruff tumble of his words. Special to them. Memories gathered, and his picked the places from his brain. The bar on New years Eve, full of names and faces he couldn't remember yet. Decorated with Christmas lights and the chilly frost of winter. That shack in the forest, hidden within dark trees and looming shadows. Protected by a small creek, holding the warmth and love of their bound bodies. He shut his eyes, an eerie shiver running along his spine. Swallowing, he nodded his head and allowed Jesse to lead him into the stairwell.

The pull, the weight of pain shifted through his body. Not as intense as the day before, but enough to stall him in the door frame as he let his arm pull through. He held his expression, not letting on to the inkling of hurt so that Jesse wouldn't hesitate. Once the discomfort grew, he shut his eyes, just letting the man pull him through. “You alright?” Jesse asked, loosing his grip just slightly, his voice growing quieter than before.

And suddenly, the hallway boomed with tremendous noise. Like a whip of wind, a tornado tearing around them. The pressure built in his body as he forced his full foot forward, aware of the pain storming in his body like a hurricane. It hurt, it hurt bad, but he wanted out. He wanted to see the bar they spent every New Years Eve at. He wanted to know the story of the people inside, he wanted to see the window decorated in Christmas lights and winter frost. He couldn't let the pain hold him back because then he would never get anywhere. He would just rely on words and flashbacks. He wanted to see that place.

“Hanzo,” Jesse grunted with a breathless choke, barely audible over the booming storm that now burrowed into his brain. He took a firm step through the doorway, halfway out of the apartment now as the pressure tried to keep him put. He wanted out. He wanted to wander through the forest, along the small, trickling creek. Find that tire buried with tree roots and take a left to find the shack. Feel the heat of their bodies filling the small space, crashed into one another.

Just one more step forward and he was free from this stupid apartment. He loved the company of his brother, but even that grew tiresome, watching him waste his time on something that could never come to fruition. To think that all his brother's talent and time dwindled just watching the sad spirit of someone he once knew dearly. Watching this weightless form ignore him, push him away. Not because Hanzo wanted to ignore his brother, but because he offered him nothing in this world. Both as a spirit and a barely living body. He wanted out. He wanted to give his brother's life meaning again.

He wanted out.

The deafening storm silenced and with what felt like a pop, he jolted forward into the stairwell. His body crashed into his lover's and Jesse struggled to keep them upright as they tumbled together. Hanzo opened his eyes with a sharp inhale, taking in the musty bottom floor of the apartment stairs. Although old and poorly maintained, it was a pleasant change of scenery from his apartment jail room. Jesse squeezed his arms around him, and Hanzo could sense the heaving of his chest, as if pulling through the door was just as much of a feat for Jesse as it was for himself. “You alright, darlin'? How you feelin'?” he questioned, his voice falling ragged from his lips as he raked his fingers through the loose hair that fell from Hanzo's ponytail.

“I am fine,” Hanzo muttered, his form still tense as the pressure dwindled from his body. He straightened his body, taking a moment to look over his lover before inspecting the stairwell. Jesse looked tired, colored drained from his face and body trembling as he caught his breath. As if his entire being took the brunt of the pain Hanzo felt the day before. “Are you alright? You look-”

“You did it,” Jesse praised in a breathy whisper, pressing his lips into Hanzo's high cheekbone. He cleared his throat, letting a chuckle tumble off his lips. “You're outside.” Well, inside still, but outside at least the doorway of his apartment. Just a few steps closer to his body. Although ecstatic about escaping the bond of his apartment, he was now more focused on the stress leaving seemed to put on his lover. “Now all we have to do is get to the hospital, and you can come back.”

“Are you alright?” Hanzo grunted again, his voice stern as he narrowed his eyes, allowing his body to ease away from Jesse's embrace. He placed his hands atop his shoulders, trying to steady the trembling sway in Jesse's posture.

“Fine, pumpkin.” Turning his body towards the small steps, Jesse whistled with a sideways smile. “Let's get going, I've got places to show you.” And with that, he started to wander up the stairs, bracing one hand on the railing, the other against the nearby brick wall of the stairwell interior. It was obvious he was not fine, but stubbornness was something the two shared. He turned back, outstretching his hand to take Hanzo's, leading him with a tired smile towards the outdoors.

Hanzo took small steps, waiting for the pain to surge back as he ascended the stairs towards the main door, but it never came. His apprehension dwindled until he was wandering with ease. To say he was walking wouldn't be true as he was still missing his prosthetic leg, but his body phantom moved to the point where it felt natural. Familiar, heading out for the day, hand linked with Jesse's as they pushed through the door and into the bright, straining sunlight. He had to adjust for a moment to the sensory of colors that greeted him. The long stretch of grass before the parking lot, a spattering of parked cars, the morning sky. Sights he could see from the window, but looking through glass didn't do it justice.

“You still doing okay?” Jesse questioned, catching his breath from his exasperation in the hallway. That charming smile still laced his face as he could tell the answer from Hanzo's easy movements, but his heart still wanted to check in.

“Yes, thank you.” Jesse began to lead him away from the parking lot, towards the road that lead towards the main street lined with businesses and restaurants. He didn't object to walking, but certainly the hospital was a distance enough that driving would be more suitable. At least for Jesse, who actually held the strain of physical effort. “Don't you want to drive?” Hanzo questioned and Jesse shrugged, looking back over his shoulder towards the cars filling random spots.

“Truck's got expired plates,” he mumbled and Hanzo peeked back as well, spotting a particularly run down blue pick up parked under a shading of overgrown tree branches. Rust caked the edges of the door, one tire flat, and the back bumper falling off. Even if it had current plates, it probably wouldn't leave that parking spot if the interior looked anything like the exterior. But Hanzo suddenly remembered fond memories of that old pick up. Nights spent parked under the stars, blankets filling the truck bed. Sharing stories of growing up and falling in love. “We shared your car, but yours got totaled in the accident.”

The accident. The car accident. He remembered Genji telling him multiple times it was a car accident that landed him in a coma. But not the accident that cost him his legs. Jesse did say first accident the day before. “It's a nice day and walking is good for you,” Jesse rambled on, his smile just as bright as the sun crawling overhead. Elated that they were free to wander outside. “Everything's pretty close, too, except the hospital, but even that's not too far on foot.”

The two remained in the familiar position of linked hands, walking side by side in similar step. Jesse's steps long, sway in his body. Hanzo at first occupied with the sensation of moving a missing leg, his attention gradually focusing instead on the two of them remaining side by side. To anyone passing by, it may look odd seeing a man holding hands with air, but luckily there was no one around. He didn't want to let go.

Apart from holding hands, talking would probably seem suspicious to those passing by. But there was a great distance between them and the next person walking their direction, and Hanzo wanted to know about the first accident. Surely the one responsible for taking his legs, and maybe even Jesse's arm. “Will you show me your home in the woods?” He questioned, attempting to be sly about prying. That's where Jesse let all his emotions spill the first time around, so perhaps there was a connection.

“Oh, that place? You remember that place?” Jesse said it with something like a low growl, his voice tumbling through his throat as he shot a devious smile. Hanzo side eyed him, swallowing down the vision of the two of them bound together against the floor. A shot of warmth stabbed him in the stomach and he dropped his blushing attention towards the ground at their feet. He tried to catch their shadows, but remembered he wouldn't have one, and drew his glance back up. “Haven't been there in a while, sugar. What made you think of that?”

“Just a memory I had. Is it not important?” Perhaps it just became a place in their past after they confessed to one another. But from the sound of the drawl in Jesse's throat, it seemed it became more of a place of secluded love making after they lived together.

The two wandered past the elaborately decorated window of a local jewelry shop, and Jesse paused before it for a moment, staring into the window. He opened his mouth to speak, but then quickly jolted forward before Hanzo could get a glimpse of anything inside. He noticed his own lack of reflection, and turned his attention away. “Nah, not anymore,” Jesse finally said as they passed through an intersection, cars too far away to impede their crossing. “I'm sure I've still got stuff in there, but we ain't been there in a while.”

“I remembered you telling me about the work you did while we were there.” About the favors he did for people. Selling drugs for the people he owed, sleeping around just for a place to rest his head. He shuddered with a sigh, a tint of sadness at the end of it. “Did you ever cut ties with those people? The ones you worked with. Or do you still owe them?”

Jesse lowered his head, a little catch in his step as they passed by more shops. Hanzo avoided looking into them as he passed, his lack of a reflection in the glossy windows a continuous reminder that he was not a person. “I no longer associate with them,” the man muttered, bowing his head to the person who passed them by. A kid with headphones, flying by on a skateboard. Didn't even look in their direction or bother to move out of the way as he zipped down the sidewalk. “Paid my debt with them a couple years ago.”

“Were you still doing favors up until then?

“Gave that up when we started living together,” Jesse admitted with a slow nod, pulling his attention from the ground before them. He seemed focused on a place about half a mile ahead of them, a collection of brick buildings, signs dimmed for the day. “My crew came back and collected their debt, then left me alone.” He stretched his mechanical fingers to readjust the grasp he had around Hanzo's hand, drawing his hand up to kiss along Hanzo's knuckles. There was something comforting about holding on to the slick metal, feeling the curves of the detailed craftsmanship against his palm. A lot of thought went into the obscure prosthetic and it deserved to be held.

Hanzo had no idea how his old crew operated, but he could imagine all the trouble they caused not only for others, but for Jesse. “I am proud of you,” he stated, although without much understanding of Jesse's connection to the people, other than owing them an obscene amount of money. “Leaving a situation like that must have been difficult.” He looked up ahead where a gathering of college students headed their way, chatting among themselves with no attention to the couple they were about to walk into. Well, the person.

Walking down the street in broad daylight, holding the hand of a person who didn't exist to everyone else didn't seem to bother Jesse much, though. The people passed by and Hanzo avoided talking to make sure that Jesse didn't look as though he lost his mind talking to air. He didn't mind the brief silence, the way their hands linked together as if they belonged there. He was meant to pay attention to the places they passed, but couldn't seem to focus on anything else besides Jesse. “I did what I had to do,” Jesse muttered once out of earshot of the group, his head still lowered to their feet shuffling against the sidewalk. He said it with a smile, but there was no happiness in his voice. Deep guilt, darkened remorse. “But I never should have gotten us into such a stupid situation to begin with.”

And suddenly he stopped, just before the window of a little bar. Closed this time of day, but a body bustling around inside regardless. “You remember this place?” Jesse questioned, nodding his head towards the window as invitation to peer in at the person behind the bar. A shorter, chubby girl with dark hair and glasses. She rearranged the bottles behind the counter while a scrawny guy with wild hair wrote down things she muttered to him. They bickered for a second before he stuck his tongue out at her, flipping to the next page of his notebook.

Hanzo peered through the window at the empty chairs and tables. Although not in season, Christmas lights decorated the framing of the window, a few green and red bulbs burnt out from age. He remembered what they looked liked coated in the soft frost of winter. They came here often. Often enough that the girl behind the bar knew them by name. “We spent New Years here...”

“Every year we've been together,” Jesse smirked, leaning his back against the wall. He didn't look through the window, letting Hanzo take in the familiar scenery for himself.

“We were engaged here.” Hanzo glanced away from the window, staring at his partner instead. For a moment, he forgot about his lack of appearance to the rest of the world and reached out with his free hand to draw his fingers against the gold chain dangling down Jesse's neck. He fiddled with it between his fingertips, staring past the deep topaz of the jewels into the dark honey of Jesse's eyes. “A few years ago, we were engaged here.”

“Yup.” Jesse smiled from the corner of his lips, bringing his full hand towards his face. For a moment he made a natural motion to take a drag from a cigarette, but then shook his head when he realized he didn't have one between his fingers. He flicked his hands away with an anxious chuckle, turning his head towards the window. "You remember? It was such a mess, so much was happening around us. I was so nervous," he grunted, still with that smirk pulling at his top lip.

Hanzo didn't remember. Just bits and pieces, little details. But this time, he knew it wasn't because of his poor memory slipping away. "Tell me," he muttered with a low sigh, coming to stand closer before him, despite that the two were lingering in public. Cars bustled by and the two in the bar were too busy taking inventory to notice, but he wanted to avoid making Jesse looking silly standing alone, talking to himself.

"The bar was super crowded and I had meant to propose on Christmas, but that didn't happen. So then I thought New Years, but we always spent it at the bar." Jesse rolled on through the details of the evening, sounding just as nervous as the night he proposed. Nothing had gone right. He left his wallet at home, so Hanzo had to pay their tab. He tried before the ball dropped, but that silly kid who tended to the bar thought it would be funny to set off some firecrackers. Which in turn scared one of the bar goers into spilling her drink on the bar owner, which only distracted Jesse out of doing it. "And finally, it was count down time, and while everyone was screaming, I did it. Right at midnight. It was awful, I couldn't spit my words out. I'm honestly surprised you said yes."

"I don't remember," Hanzo admitted and Jesse bunched up his shoulders with a look of expectancy. He hadn't spoken highly of himself since the day he stepped foot in the apartment. Hanzo had a feeling he never spoke well of himself ever.

"There's a lot of things you don't remember, so I didn't expect you to." Hanzo watched the sadness gather in his dark eyes. Jesse rubbed at his mouth, his fingers twitching for a moment as though he ached for a cigarette. It was true that he did not remember that scrawny boy lighting the firecrackers inside the bar. Or the woman spilling her drink onto the bartender. Or even having to pay for the drinks they downed for the night. But it wasn't because of the accident. It was because he hadn't been paying attention to anything else but Jesse that night.

"No, I do not remember it that way, I mean," he corrected, taking one last look into the bar window. The short girl was now puffed up with flustered anger and there were a couple busted bottles of alcohol on the ground. The other boy had disappeared, probably the cause of the mess. It was easy to see why Jesse would have been distracted. But Hanzo had never noticed. "I only remember you."

Jesse snorted a laugh through his nose, pushing away from the brick wall, but Hanzo's spirited form kept him in place. "Yeah, probably cause I made an idiot out of myself."

"You were nervous," Hanzo recalled, removing his hand from Jesse's mechanical one, instead sliding it against his hip to match his other hand. "You had been that way for a while, I was scared something bad was coming. But as it grew closer to midnight, we were stuck in the middle of the bar." Hanzo quickly forgot that they were standing in the middle of the sidewalk in the late morning. With restaurants and businesses lining the streets, people just seconds from wandering out to see Jesse perched up against the wall, clinging to no one. It seemed that Jesse didn't mind, though, as he didn't deny him for a second. "You pulled me really close, put your hands in my pockets. You liked to do that."

"I do," Jesse agreed, mimicking the motion by drawing his hands past Hanzo's hips to reach around behind him. His sweatpants didn't have back pockets, but if they did, Jesse's hands would fit perfectly.

"You started calling me all those ridiculous pet names. Darling, pumpkin, sugar, sweet pea," Hanzo mused, leaning forward into Jesse to pull their bodies together, leaving no space between them. A place he had grown quite fond of just within a day. A feeling he missed more than he ever realized before. Touch had been so foreign that any was welcomed. But he knew nothing would feel quite as good as the way Jesse held him. "The list could go on forever. You have many."

"I do," Jesse repeated, placing a warm kiss against the side of Hanzo's lips as he retold the story in a way that Jesse could never remember through nervous thoughts.

"And then you told me you loved me, and continued to tell me in eighty different ways. How you wanted to wake every morning with me in your arms. How you wanted to take care of me. How you wanted to be stronger because of me, even though I thought you were already strong enough." Jesse slid his tongue against his bottom lip, having to advert his eyes towards the sky for a moment to keep himself from getting worked up. Calm, with a flutter in his heart, Hanzo returned a kiss with many of his own, tracing them from the underside of Jesse's chin, up his jaw to his earlobe. "How could I say no?"

Jesse shivered and Hanzo could feel his fingers bunch around the fabric of the wispy blue and white robe that dangled from his body. "I'm glad you remember it like that,” he breathed, nuzzling his nose against the side of Hanzo's face. He cleared his throat, caught his breath, and squeezed his arms tighter around Hanzo's waist. And for a moment, the two of them just stood in silence in the middle of the midday sun, basking in the soft warmth. 

Remembering how awkward his partner probably looked, Hanzo whispered, “We're in public.”

“I don't care,” Jesse muttered back. “I missed you.”

And they stayed there, arms around each other, lips against skin. Silence, comfortable silence. It felt familiar and welcomed, and he knew that once he returned to his body, and continued living his life by this man's side, everything would feel complete.

"Let's get walking,” Jesse finally interrupted, pushing them both away from the brick wall of the bar. Hanzo nodded, reluctant to snake his arms away, but content with holding his hand. “We've got a ways ahead of us."

Their movement through the world had been slow enough that the sun was beginning to set now, casting a soothing orange glow over their surroundings. Hanzo admired the way the glow complimented Jesse's darker features. Chocolate eyes, burnt skin, dark hair. Rugged like a fire, smooth like the sunset. They had passed shops, restaurants they had spent many dinners together at. An art gallery where Genji had a few shows in the past, and Hanzo was never brave enough to display his work. A mechanic shop where Jesse worked briefly, but then moved on to other jobs. Miles and miles of places they laid their footsteps, each location dragging up a special beat in Hanzo's heart. “Past this bridge here couple miles down is the hospital,” Jesse muttered with uncertainty, stretching his free hand towards the building that loomed in the distance. Before them stretched a bridge that overlooked a river many feet down.

Just a couple miles down lay his body. Hooked to monitors and oxygen. Surrounded by flowers and cards, possibly mourning family members. If any continued to bother with him these days. Nurses checking vitals, doctors whispering false hopes. His body, waiting for his soul to return. His heart skipped a beat and he straightened his back as their journey continued towards their destination.

But suddenly Jesse stopped, squeezing tightly around Hanzo's hand.

“What is wrong?” The two stood to the side of the bridge, watching traffic casually bustle through. The contrast between the calm bridge with pavement that disappeared into gravel road, and the tall buildings leading into a city area disturbed him. Unease settled in his stomach and he gripped tighter around Jesse's metal limb. He felt the black band around his finger spin slightly when it contacted his lover's fingers.

He wanted to push forward, but now it seemed something was holding Jesse back. “I've been drawing up the courage to see you for months now,” Jesse admitted, staring in the distance where the hospital loomed overhead. A short car ride away, just a little bit more of a walk now. They had been walking all day, only just a bit longer now.

“You've not been to the hospital?” Hanzo questioned, narrowing his eyes. Ten months of being away and he had not even seen him yet? He did not know what he looked like, the severity of the situation. Perhaps his family or friends had been a block in the path. “Did my family not let you see me?”

“Not, that ain't it.” Jesse swallowed, his attention darting all over the bridge. Towards a few pieces of scattered metal and glass. Abandoned trash whisked by in the evening wind. A skid mark just towards the center of the bridge. “It's hard passing through here.” Hanzo's eyes wandered over a section where the bridge railing dented in. A strip of caution tape dangled from the busted metal, forgotten since the scene was evacuated. A car drove by, scattering smaller pieces of glass that littered the pavement. Jesse brought Hanzo's hand to his mouth, pressing his lips against the back of his hand. “This is where I lost you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD GUYS I'M BACK. I am very sorry for the delay in updating, it has been a crazy month and a half. First I got sucked into the world of Danganronpa V3 (which absolutely destroyed my heart and soul and I'll probably write stuff for that once I'm done with this fic ;;). But on top of that, I had to dogsit for an extremely sick dog who I had to keep my eye on constantly (which meant taking him to work). Around the same time, my sister moved in, so I had to rearrange my entire apartment, and it's just been crazy town. I finally got the past couple days to settle and get some personal stuff done SO I FINISHED A CHAPTER. Sorry, I'm just making excuses, but it's been a wild month. Wild.
> 
> BUT HEY HERE HAVE A CHAPTER OF FLUFF AND FEELS AND STUFF.


	8. Chapter 8

The bridge was the only thing that stood in Hanzo's way now. He gripped Jesse's hand in his own, nodding his head towards the hospital that stood tall in the distance. Only miles between him and his body now. They had been wandering all day. The sudden stop jarred his brain. All they had to do was cross over. Hanzo remembered almost nothing of what happened here. The car accident. The dark night and empty bridge. Jesse had not been in the car with him, but he was there. For some reason, the car slammed into the side of the bridge. Because of the rain. The windshield shattered, he blacked out. And now here they were.

“Push forward,” Hanzo muttered, taking the first brave step. He lead their bodies towards the opposite end of the damaged piece of bridge. Remains from his busted windshield littered the street. Small scraps of metal, dark marks torn into the pavement. “Think of our reason for crossing, right?”

“Yeah,” Jesse huffed, his body trembling. It was like pulling a defiant toddler, his feet planted in place. Eyes fixated at the damage left behind by the accident. The yellow caution tape flipped in the light breeze. “Just need to cross this bridge...”

Hanzo faced him, stunned by the weakness overcoming his lover. He did not remember the accident, only that it happened. But Jesse, he must have remembered it all too well to react this way. Hanzo imagine that if he remembered more, crossing would be more difficult. “I'm with you,” he reminded. Jesse swallowed, keeping his dim eyed attention towards the ground. At his dirty cowboy boots that he hadn't removed in days. Tattered edges of old blue jeans, tainted with dust and spatters of mud. Details Hanzo never noticed before. “We will be okay.”

Jesse hummed low to himself, watching a car zip by, scattering more glass across the pavement. The caution tape followed its trail. “Be careful, darlin',” he warned, finally looking Hanzo in the eye. His face drained of color, eyes wavering, and brows burrowed in thought. He pressed his free hand against his own face, thumbing the scar that traced down the left side of his lip. Hanzo studied it, knowing it had been there long before they met. But he hadn't noticed it fully until now. “This won't be easy. If it hurts, we stop.”

Hanzo let out a low sigh at his lover's assumption. Crossing the doorway was a chore. But after crossing, nothing had impeded their journey today. It seemed likely, being such an important part of his past, that the bridge was the next hurdle. But it could be as easy as the stroll through the town. Hanzo nodded in understanding regardless and turned his body towards the hospital. Another car sputtered by, leaving them in the silence of the day. A light breeze shifted by as the sun began to set in the distance. The river rushing, birds chirping their last goodnight. He swallowed, grasping Jesse's hand, pulling him across and bracing for impact.

The closer they wandered towards the invisible mark of the incident, he could feel his heart pick up pace. Thumping hard in his rib cage, filling with pressure on the brink of explosion. He staggered back to walk beside Jesse instead of leading him. The pressure was irritating, but nothing he was unfamiliar with. They were so close now.

A deafening crunch hit his ear and he glanced down, finding his foot grinding over stray glass. The second the sound pierced his ears, pain flooded his entire body. A whirlwind stronger than the one in the stairwell circled him. But more like a tsunami, pulled under tremendous waves. He choked out, water filling his throat and crashing into his lungs. He could feel Jesse's hands pulling him back as he continued his stubborn steps across the bridge. They had come so far. He couldn't give up.

Somewhere behind him, Jesse yelled. His names, pleas to stop, he couldn't tell. Everything was so loud, creek water trickling into his ears. Cold winter creeping into his lungs. Gunshots, a wolf's cry. The screaming. He couldn't get Jesse's scream out of his head. But he kept going, knowing that if he stopped now, they would only surrender to defeat. Jesse's hand clasped in his own and the other hand grabbed his arm. He tugged him back with the strength heavier than the storm raging around him. Although a spirit, Hanzo was losing breath. Things around him grew dark. It was only a bridge. He could cross it.

But the apartment had been only a door. It took him ten months to cross that threshold. He wanted to keep going, but his body was giving up.

Jesse pulled his arm from behind and Hanzo pushed forward towards the hospital. He felt as though he were being torn in half. He gritted his teeth, eyes narrowed towards his destination ahead of him. The world grew dark and he couldn't see the path ahead of them. Mind dizzy, body weak. He had to cross or else today's progress was useless.

“Hanzo, I said stop!” Jesse roared in defiance, pulling him back with impressive force. His scream ripped through the torrent of wind and he threw Hanzo to ground. His back hit the pavement with a thud, hands raking against the stray glass.

Hanzo stared at the startling image of his lover. Jesse bunched over, his chest heaving, blood dripping from his mouth. His left arm gone, dangling at his side. Eyes dark, distant, scared. For a moment they stared, Hanzo unsure who he was looking at. Like a man possessed. Jesse's body rumbled before he finally collapsed to his knees. “I said stop...” he moaned through uneven breaths, defeated. The bridge went silent. The sunset bathed them in deep reds and oranges. A car shifted by without hesitation for the man kneeling on the bridge.

In a moment, the world settled. Blood no longer spilled from Jesse's throat, his metal appendage dangled intact on his arm. The sweet honey returned to his tired eyes, and his body trembled a little less. Whatever Hanzo saw looked like a nightmare, but it was only a vision. He hoped not a terrible memory. “But we were so close, Jesse, we-”

“No,” Jesse grunted, drawing his legs from beneath his body to sit against the pavement. Leaning his head back, he gave a shuddered breath to the sky, his entire body trembling. His left hand lay limp against the ground and he brought his right against his face. Another invisible draw from a cigarette, thumb tapping the scar on his lip. “Let's give it a rest for now.”

“Are you alright?” Hanzo questioned, crawling towards his lover once he gained his bearings. The chips of glass fell from his palms and he noticed a trickle of blood where it scraped his hands. For a moment, he stared, realizing the faint sting on his skin. He reached out, bringing his hand over the one Jesse held on his face, the other raking through his lover's disheveled locks.

“I'm fine.”

“Did I hurt-”

“I said I'm fine,” Jesse barked, taking in one last shuddered breath. He shook his head, letting his hand fall from his face before reaching out to scoop up Hanzo's cheek. He drew him forward, crashing their lips together in a desperate kiss, as if saying goodbye. Hanzo could taste the metallic tinge of blood on the edge of his tongue and he swallowed. “I'm sorry,” Jesse muttered between kisses, laying another across his lover's trembling lips. “I'm sorry, I don't mean to... I... I hate seeing you like this.”

“Let's get out of the road.” Hanzo nodded his head towards the side where the road turned to gravel. A dried patch of grass lined the edge of the street. He pulled himself to his feet, helping his less than graceful lover stand as well. Jesse stumbled, unable to hold on with his left hand.

Both exhausted, the two collapsed in the grass. Jesse braced himself with his right arm, glancing over Hanzo from head to toe for any injuries. “I knew that wouldn't work,” he muttered in defeat, his hope from the rest of the day dashed into the rocks along the river. His voice fell ragged, pouring from his throat through bubbled breaths. As if he had been drowning himself. “How are you feeling, darlin'?”

“Better now.” Hanzo stared at Jesse's left arm, lifeless against the grass. “It hurts you when you help me.”

“It does, but it's nothin',” Jesse lied. Hanzo leaned against him, careful when he slid his hand beneath Jesse's limp appendage. He laced their fingers and stared towards the underside of the bridge where the river waded past. In the fading sunlight, he noticed a flicker of candle light from under the bridge. Two pairs of feet peeked from beneath the underpass and he became aware of quiet chatter. A familiar pair of green and white tennis shoes. Loose shoelaces, the right foot shaking with anxiety.

“Genji?” Those shoes belonged to his brother, perched up beneath the underpass alongside another. Hanzo considered calling out, confused that Genji didn't respond to the chaos. But when he caught sight of another individual under the bridge, he kept quiet. Jesse didn't seem to care, occupied with instead staring down at his dead left arm. He nodded Hanzo towards the bridge as an invitation to get a listen, but Hanzo knew not to get too close.

He crawled forward, leaning his back against the concrete of the underpass wall. Another soft voice soothed Genji as they spoke of their worries. One somewhat familiar to Hanzo. He hadn't heard it often, but he could never forget such a lovely tone. “Have the doctors said anything new?” the voice offered and Genji let out a long sigh, drawing his knees towards his body. Hanzo watched the sneakers and shoestrings disappear from sight. Their flickering shadows danced through the underpass.

“No. He hadn't changed.” They were talking about his body. How long had there been no change? Ten months? Three weeks? The past couple of days? “Which I suppose is better than declining. He has been stable since Jesse came back.” Listening to the worry in his brother's voice, he felt that familiar break in his heart. His brother held such a smile in their home as if each day brought on new hope. The hope that things would be alright and one day he wouldn't speak with a spirit. But instead the full bodied being of his brother. He held a smile, although knowing that there was little chance of improvement. “I trust Jesse to take care of him.”

Silence stretched between them, the rushing river coursing through with gentle streams. “Does he know?” the other man questioned. Hanzo narrowed his eyes, staring across the way where Jesse began to stretch his metal limb. He moved his fingers, life coming back to his arm. Did he know? About his body? No, he knew nothing. No one could tell him anything. This was the first he heard about his living status.

“I'm not sure.” Genji sighed and the two fell into silence again. Jesse reached out his arm, holding his hand before him as he took in a deep breath. All the hope Hanzo felt throughout the day dwindled into the river coursing by. He tried not to throw away all the progress he had made. They had come so far, but it seemed everyone knew this was futile. “I left them alone to reconnect. I trust Jesse will tell him at some point.”

But how could he when Jesse had not seen his body? The man knew more than Hanzo did. “You trust Jesse after all that has happened?” The other man's voice was not blaming, calm and soothing as the river below. A chilling voice of reason, no judgment. Only aid.

Genji's untied sneakers slid into view as he stretched out his legs. “He gave Hanzo a life no one else could.” Hanzo continued to stare at the cowboy, who was relaxing all his limbs now. His body finally settled, his chest no longer heaving. He still looked tired, but at least he could move his arms. For a moment, they caught eyes, sweet like honey, dark like night. Jesse smiled for the first time since before approaching the bridge, laying back in the grass. Hanzo felt that familiar pang of guilt, a little different from when he knew Genji was visiting his body. Guilt that he was the reason Jesse was in so much pain. Holding back a spirit desperate to cross a path he wasn't meant to walk could do severe damage. “He made him so happy...”

The two rustled beneath the bridge. Hanzo watched their shadows flicker against the underpass. The candle light diminished and he became aware of how fast the sun was setting. “May I walk you home?” The pair left the opposite end of the underpass, far enough away that they didn't notice Hanzo or Jesse in the grass. The other man was shorter with a gentle smile that radiated from the corners of his eyes. Hanzo had seen him before, but he could not place where, like many of those in the past. For a moment, Hanzo considered hollering out to his brother, but they were quick out of earshot.

While Jesse laid in the grass to collect himself, Hanzo used the quiet to peer beneath the underpass. A small collection of candles, flowers, and a string of photos decorated the old concrete. Photos of himself, photos of Jesse, all taken by his brother's crafty hands. Like a small memorial, a place of prayer that one day Hanzo could return to him. “Wouldn't go too far under that bridge,” Jesse called from his spot in the grass. He held his metal limb towards the sky, blocking the remaining sunlight with his fingers. “Can't watch you be in pain any longer, darlin'.”

Hanzo pulled away from the small shrine beneath the bridge, back towards his lover staring at the sky. He wandered beside him, at first watching the way he breathed against the ground. Calm now, only a little shudder. The color returned to his sun kissed skin, meshing with the radiant sunset bathed over him. “Are you alright?” Hanzo questioned, taking a slow seat beside Jesse. He drew his hand along the metal limb, over curves and corners, bolts and plates. Jesse twitched his fingers, forcing himself upright to match shoulders with his partner.

“Fine, darlin'.” Jesse reached out with his right hand, drawing his fingers along the side of Hanzo's face. He did so with a sigh, his attention dancing all over his features, but avoiding eye contact. As if he were hiding a secret threatening to spill from his lips. His brain deep in thought. No longer recovering from pain, but contemplating their next step against lost hope. “Guess we know where your brother's been... Friend of yours?”

“I have seen him before, but...” Hanzo looked over his shoulder where the pair disappeared into the distance. Fading from view without pause. Seeing his brother in such despair hurt his heart, but at least he was away from the apartment for once. Hanzo wondered if the man led him down a path of recovery while Genji struggled to keep his brother alive. “I don't remember much of him.”

There was so much he could remember, but still pieces that were only vague blips in his brain. “There is more I must remember before I can cross the bridge,” he muttered to his partner. Jesse showered him in soft touches, leaning forward to press his lips against the side of Hanzo's chin.

“I've shown you ever where worth rememberin'.” Jesse kept his attention away from Hanzo's line of sight. He busied with more distracted kisses, drawing back strands of loose dark hair. Not everywhere. Hanzo knew that he lost his legs before the car accident. The possibility that both accidents took place on this bridge were unlikely. There was somewhere Jesse didn't want to take him. Whether it be from fear or inability.

“The place in the woods?”

“Why you wanna go there so bad?” Jesse muttered, a small whine tailing the end of his sentence. “It's some sad shack I used to live in, and we stopped going once I lived with you. I reckon it's so overgrown with plants you can't even open the door.”

Hanzo reached out and pulled Jesse's hand away from his face, forcing it down by their side. He narrowed his eyes, leaning his head forward to force Jesse's attention. “Then take me to where the first accident occurred,” he grunted, grabbing Jesse by his left wrist.

'First accident? There was only the car accident, I told-”

“Where I lost my legs! Where you lost your arm, Jesse! Take me there, take me to where it happened so I can remember!” His words shot out faster than any car zipping by and Jesse drew his head back, a thick swallow bubbling in his throat. “I want to know. I am tired of you and Genji avoiding what happened!”

Jesse chewed the inside of his cheek, his eyes rolling full circle to avoid eye contact with a sigh. He stretched his metal fingers, pressing them into the warm dirt and grass beneath them as he stood. “Fine,” he grunted, dusting off the back of his pants and drawing his attention down they road they had come. The long road full of winding paths and distant memories. Somewhere buried in that forest was a place he never wanted to return to. “I'll take you there, but I'm not saying anything...”

“Why are you scared to tell me?”

“Think it's better you remember yourself,” Jesse muttered, stepping away from the bridge. “Seems we've been rememberin' a few things a little different.”

Nightfall descended as they trudged through the thick forest from Hanzo's memory. No snow, no chilling cold. Much more green and brush than he remembered. Jesse still held his hand, leading him down the familiar path even in the darkness. The creek trickled nearby. Animals scattered with the crunch of dead branches and leaves beneath their feet. Hanzo felt more anxious that in his memories. The accident, the one that took his legs, took his lover's arm, happened in this very forest. He wished for the warmth of the tiny shack, the collection of flickering candles. Jesse's body against his. But Jesse was a few steps ahead, leading him by the hand. He hadn't looked back since they entered the forest.

“How much further is it?” Hanzo questioned, noticing the way Jesse stumbled over a root he hadn't noticed. He didn't pause to collect himself, instead trudging foward with a rough jerk of Hanzo's arm.

“Don't remember. Been a while, remember?” He paused, looking both left and right through the thick brush. His eyes adjusted on the creek to their right and he seemed lost in the waters. Washing past over rocks, dragging dead leaves in its wake. Hanzo's gaze traveled along the creek towards something protruding from the ground. The tire, overgrown with roots and weeds, buried in dirt. Somewhere to the left, half a mile down, the shack. It was easy to find once one knew where to look. Yet Jesse seemed to have forgotten. Or he didn't want to reach the shed.

“Jesse,” Hanzo muttered, reaching out with his free hand to run it own his lover's back. Jesse didn't move, didn't turn to face him. Only stared down at the creek as it ebbed by. Fresh, cold water, wiping away the dangers it knew. “Do not be afraid to tell me of the past...”

“I'm not telling you anything,” he scoffed beneath his breath. Angry, upset. Not with Hanzo, but the situation. With the past, a past he without a doubt wanted hidden. “I want you to remember it all yourself. I don't think me tellin' the story would be right...”

“Were you not there when I lost my legs?” Hanzo felt the man's fingers twitch within his palm. Jesse's attention deep in the gentle stream. His balance wavered, but never once did his gaze falter. “Jesse?”

“Can we take a break, darlin'? I'm not feeling right.” Although eager to reach the shack a bit away, Hanzo realized that they had been walking all day. Travel did not strain his body as he was only a spirit, but for Jesse to be on foot since this morning would wear on him. Add in a lack of food and a push over the bridge that rejected them, it was a wonder Jesse was even standing.

Hanzo guided him the few feet towards the tire ingrained in the earth, allowing his partner to take a slow seat. Jesse almost tumbled, bracing himself against what little of the tire erupted from the earth. He breathed out, shutting his eyes and leaning his head back towards the sky. “We should have stopped for food,” Hanzo began, adjusting himself against the ground. He outstretched his leg, staring at the void where his left once was. “It was selfish of me not to think of you today.”

“You had me move out of the shack,” Jesse explained, looking off in the distance of the dark forest. Somewhere half a mile ahead of him laid what remained of his old home. “made me move into the apartment with you and your brother.” He took in another low breath, letting his head roll to the side to rest against Hanzo's shoulder. “But we wanted to be alone, which was hard with Genji around. And he had friends over a lot so we'd come out here. Gave us some peace, you know?”

Hanzo missed the warmth of the shed, despite the chilling cold that swept through his memory. The words they let fall, their hands all over one another. No one could hear them this deep in the forest. Jesse made sure no one knew he existed. “Sometimes we would camp out if the weather was nice. Most the time we did other things.” The cowboy had easy access to the stretch of skin along Hanzo's neck. He pursed his lips, drawing sweet, slow kisses along it, releasing a hum against his earlobe. “In fact, the last time we were here was just for that...”

Closing his eyes, Hanzo focused on his partner's warm lips. He remembered the many ventures through this forest. Through the chilling winter, when snow and frost coated the ground. Hot summers, Jesse wading through thick brush in nothing but cowboy boots and blue jeans. Fireflies flaring in the bushes. Leaves turning from glossy green to the vibrant flames of autumn. Each time, hand in hand, Jesse leading the way. “Genji was having a party, but I didn't want to be around his friends that night, so we came out here.”

Jesse reached up, bringing his left hand around the back of Hanzo's neck. His fingers combed through the loose strands of hair at the base of his neck, pushing aside the golden sash. He kissed at his partner's earlobe, then his jaw, and last his neck. Waiting there, warm breath. “You begged me to take you out here,” he whispered and Hanzo shivered. He leaned his head back, loving the way his fingers felt against his scalp. He was such a beautiful distraction.

As before, the memories trickled into his brain like the creek water running behind them. Jesse pulling the golden sash from the ponytail that hung low against his shoulders. His body pressing him into the rickety shelf. Thumb on his lip as he aided Hanzo to his knees. The precious misuse of the sash. Hanzo begged alright.

With a firm swallow that bounced against Jesse's lips on his throat, Hanzo shuddered. “I'll let you remember the rest later,” the cowboy smirked with one last nibble before he pulled away. “I'm doing better, pumpkin... let's get walking.” And with that, Jesse stood, leaving Hanzo against the tire with a tremble in his body and a twitch in his eyebrow. “Only half a mile that way now.”

The two approached the small run down shack in the middle of the dark brush. The ridged wooden door way overgrown with vicious weeds and ivy. Rust caked the hinges and he reached out, attempting to jerk open the door. His grip was tight around the handle, but it wouldn't budge. Hesitant, Jesse reached out to aid him, using his tired strength to loosen the stuck door. They both pulled for a good deal of time until it jerked loose, creaking open with an ancient scream.

Jesse stepped back once the door was open far enough for one of them to slip inside. Hanzo glanced back at him, noticing the hesitance wracking his body. As if Jesse were as afraid to cross through this doorway as Hanzo had been of his apartment door for months. Would pain await him on the other side like the bridge? Letting his leg slide into the musty darkness of the old shack, he waited on the scent of warm vanilla.

A much stronger, more disgusting scent embraced him and he doubled over at the foul odor of old blood. He couldn't see, only hints of moonlight coming from the cracks of the decrepit wooden walls. But things were not as he remembered. The shelf detached from the wall, items thrown on the floor. Blind, he patted the area for candles or matches. Whatever little light he could find to illuminate the small scrap of the past. “Jesse,” he muttered with a hand over his mouth, resisting the urge to vomit from the wretched smell. Jesse's frame lingered in the doorway, moonlight pouring in around him. His body eerie, lifeless as he stared into his once home.

The pungent smell of death made his brain dizzy. For a moment, Hanzo feared that should he get a flicker of light, he may find his own body staring back at him lifeless. But he knew his body was safe elsewhere. “What happened here?” he questioned, drawing his attention forward into the shack. His eyes adjusted to the plunging darkness and he could make out more items strewn about. The old comforter, ripped to shreds in the corner of the room. The busted jar of coins from all over the world. The gun, barrel cocked open, free of bullets. A few shells scattered against the wood. The blood. The blood all over the floor, spattered onto the walls. Soaked into the torn red and gold shawl that was once precious to Jesse.

Jesse braced his left hand against the door frame, clenching the wood with his strong metal fingers. The old wood bent under the pressure, splinters dribbling to the ground. His other hand grabbed the black band from around his neck. He pressed it to his lips, anxious movement of comfort. In a voice dark, unlike his own, he muttered, “Remember how I knew some bad people?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Little shorter of a gap between updates this time, and I made sure to get it done before my mini vacation from work ended. Literally just marathoned horror movies while I wrote this in honor of Halloween lol
> 
> Originally planned another massive NSFW part there, but I decided that it would have distracted too much from the mood of the story. So I think instead, once this is all over, I'll just write it as a separate one shot. Because I still want to write it, but it would just be horrifically out of place for what the rest of this story holds. SO LOOK OUT FOR THAT LATER. :D
> 
> ANYWAY HEY HOPED YOU ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER, SHIT'S ABOUT TO GO DOWN. ;; Thank you always to everyone reading, reviewing, and leaving kudos. You guys are the best. ;;


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a small warning going into this chapter, there is some blood and violence. I added that to the tags.

The room swirled around Hanzo, the tsunami from the bridge pouring into the little shack. The pain, gathering in his heart as he braced himself against the shelf that once hung from the wall. Once supported his weight when Jesse held him so close. No longer there, in shambles against the bloodied floor. His blind hand pattered towards the wall, sweeping air where the shelf once hung. When he couldn't find anything to hold, he stepped back towards the door to at least find the comfort of his lover. But he met the solid wood of the now closed door. Shutting his eyes as the pain tore into him, he pressed his palms into the his temples to still his mind. Was he not meant to come back here? Was this why Jesse refused at first? Because he knew it would hurt him.

The storm ceased and he stood in the chilling cold. A soft light enveloped the little shack as he opened his eyes, inspecting the now clean floor. Free of dried blood, items back in their place. His worn winter boots in the corner along side Jesse's dirty ones. He stared down at both his intact bare legs, letting a relieved breath escape his lips. “Love you,” Jesse's warm tone danced against his neck, the man laying a sweet kiss against the hollow of his throat. He swallowed against his lovers lips and the pain diminished, and for a second, his brain cleared.

Jesse pulled away from him into the comfort of the small shack, many years younger. But with that all familiar smile that radiated love from every corner of his face. Hanzo sighed from the sense of comfort, despite the anxiety building in his chest. He knew he was in a memory, unable to forget the blood that once caked the floor. It was gone now, but he knew it was coming. “I love you,” he responded regardless with his back pressed against the closed door. He watched his lover pull his tight jeans back up his hips, fastening the button. This was the last night they ever spent here. His golden sash laid in a puddle with the rest of his discarded clothing. Comforter in the corner, shawl on the floor. All the coins from around the world collected in the jar. Shelf intact on the wall. Everything in place as it had been before.

A loud thump sounded against the door and Hanzo jolted forward at the pressure against his back. He scrambled for his clothing, the intense cold striking his naked body. “What's that?” he questioned from the base of his throat, aware of his words. Aware that he was in the past, a memory. Voice perfect through the still of the night. Young, ragged, tired after a night of alone time with his fiance. “An animal?” Could be searching for warmth. The idea that another person found them here was absurd. Jesse had gone to great lengths to keep himself hidden, even now that he lived with Hanzo in the apartment.

Jesse instinctively ducked, bringing a finger to his lips to silence his lover. He tried to look through the holes in the curtains, but couldn't see much through the decrepit fabric. Hanzo stared at the door, which vibrated with another loud thud. The candles flickered around them, glistening off fresh sweat gathered over his skin. He too clamored to put his clothes back on as he reunited with the cold of winter. For a moment, the two stood still, waiting for the incessant animal to pass once they found no entry. But the banging continued until the busted door flew open, slamming into the inside wall. “McCree,” a man's voice bellowed, low and devious, aiding the sound of his cocked gun.

Hanzo attempted to dart forward, tripping over the leg of his pants he hadn't slid into place yet. Before he could get within a safe distance, two other bodies rushed in, grabbing him. One gripped roughly by the hair at the base of his neck, forcing him to look at the floor. The other swept a foot beneath his ankles and dropped him to his knees. He tried to fight back, but they overtook him in surprise, forcing his hands behind his back. When Jesse lunged forward to protect him, he stopped dead when the tip of a gun pressed into his lover's temple. Hanzo froze, staring down at the candle lit shadows dancing on the floor.

“Still, McCree,” the man holding the gun muttered. Jesse's body tensed as he left his stiff hand raised towards them. Somewhere behind him, balled in that red and gold shawl was his gun. It had been years since he had to use it. Wasn't even loaded. But they didn't know that. A hesitant grunt escaped his throat, his left hand dangling towards his side.

Hanzo stared down at the floor, at the feet of the men holding him. He could feel the cold steel of the gun trailing to the back of his neck. Although he knew he could take down both of these men with the right moves, he could not stop a gun. “Still haven't given what you owe us, McCree,” the man muttered, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth. Hanzo could hear the demented smile dripping from his lips. “You ain't given us anything in quite a while.”

With a shuddered sigh, Hanzo watched his lover shift from one foot to another. Jesse kept a cautious distance on the other end of the shack, another foot closer to the bunched up shawl. Hanzo didn't know what amount Jesse owed, but he could get enough from his family to pay his debt. Jesse knew that. Why wasn't he saying anything? “I ain't giving you shit,” Jesse spat back and Hanzo's body tensed. He was being reckless knowing that not only was his life in danger, but so was Hanzo's. They had an easy way out.

Jesse was going to try to fight back. He had a plan brewing in the back of his brain. As much as Hanzo wanted to trust his irrational schemes as he always did, today was not one of those days. Not when he was an inch away from death blowing his brains out. “I can give you whatever you need,” Hanzo sputtered out, voice thrown to the floor.

“Hanzo, don't-”

“Hanzo, hmm?” One of the thugs tightened their first around his hair, yanking his head back to force him into looking up towards the room. He hissed, keeping his body still within their dangerous arms. “Shimada? Oldest son, right?” Hanzo said nothing in return, but could see Jesse's back straighten at the assumption. His family was well known.

“Your family's loaded,” the one grabbing his head muttered, voice grimy and high. The other held his arms tight behind his back, keeping him hunched over on his knees. Hanzo winced, pain surging through his scalp with each hard tug. “Too good looking for you, McCree.”

Hanzo shut his eyes, feeling the gun trail from his neck towards his face, pressing into his cheekbone. Uneven silence filled the shack, candles flickering and heavy heartbeat in his throat. He could give them anything. But Jesse didn't want that. Jesse wanted to fight back. He wanted to protect him. The gun traveled again, brushing against his lips. “Looks like he would be real good with that mouth,” the man holding the gun mused, and that was enough for Jesse.

“You son of a bitch!” Jesse screamed, lunging forward to attack the two holding down his partner. The second he took a step, the man withdrew the gun and pulled the trigger. The shot cracked the air, Hanzo screaming as terrible heat ripped through his calf. The bullet seared into his skin and muscle, and his entire body tensed in shock. Blood pooled on the old wooden floor, seeping into the cracks and staining his dark jeans. “Shit, Hanzo!”

“Stop,” Hanzo muttered, voice hoarse, trembling. To his lover, to the men around him. He could give them anything, but Jesse wouldn't listen. Another man from outside collided with the cowboy, wrapping his hands around his throat. He forced him against the wall as a fifth man helped to hold him, digging the tip of a knife into his abdomen. Hard enough to draw a trickle of blood.

“You ain't learned your lesson yet, or do I need to shoot his other leg?” the man grunted, placing the gun back against Hanzo's cheek bone. “I don't want to destroy this pretty face for you, McCree. Give me what you owe me, and we're done here.” Hanzo sat in painful silence, watching his blood drain onto the floor. Jesse said he mixed with bad people, but he never imagined this.

Jesse offered more struggle than his partner, kicking out his legs and pushing away from the wall. But each time he jutted forward an inch, the two would throw him back with painful force. “Look here, boss,” one of the men smirked, his hand around Jesse's left wrist. “Looks like this guy ain't some fuck toy. Check the ring.” The topaz stones glimmered in the candle light, matching the intense guilt in Jesse's eyes.

Hanzo clenched his fist, trying to tuck his own left hand out of sight in hopes that Jesse could come up with a sly lie. He was the kind to sleep around in the past, so catching him with someone wasn't unlikely for this group. Especially if that had been means for making money. The man with the gun kicked at Hanzo's cold fingers, bending them back with his boot until at least one cracked. For a second, Hanzo forgot the pain in his calf in exchange for the snap of his finger. “Got yourself a fiance, eh, McCree? Should have spent your time making money instead.” Jesse clenched his jaw, staring down at his fiance. Silent and strong, even though he was bleeding out onto the floor.

“You can have the ring,” Jesse spat with a shrug of his shoulders, despite his position against the wall. “You can take the ring, and whatever else you want in here.” There wasn't much to offer within the shambled shack. Aside from their lives. “Let him go, he's got nothing to do with this. Then I'll give you what you want.”

Hanzo shut his eyes. He was growing dizzy. His fingertips lost feeling, the cold sinking into his bones. His left leg numb. It didn't have to be like this. Hanzo could give them the money, he could give them what they wanted without the fight. Jesse didn't have to do this alone. The gun tapped against the side of his face and the man released the pressure on his fingers. He nodded his head towards the two men to release him. “I'll let him go... do anything stupid, boy, and I'll shoot the both of you.” Hanzo let out a breath of relief, although concerned with how easy he obtained freedom. He considered for a moment fighting back. But with a busted leg, broken finger, and gun against his neck, it still didn't seem like the best outcome.

The men unhanded him and Hanzo rose to his feet, hands on either side of his head. The gun remained pressed into his skin, guiding him towards the door. The entire time, he stared at Jesse with a look of uncertainty. He couldn't leave his lover behind. Jesse may have dealt with these hoodlums for many years, but he wasn't in the best position to survive. But what could he do? One wrong move, two bullets. They could die.

Swallowing, Hanzo stumbled backwards towards the door, lingering in the open frame. He sensed a few more thugs outside, outnumbering the couple. For a moment he stood, afraid to run. For his sake, for his lover's sake. He promised to protect him, to take care of him. And he had done nothing. “Leave,” Jesse grunted from the wall, still squirming within the men's grasp. Distaste dripped from his words and his top lip curled into a snarl. “I don't need you anymore.”

A small breath escaped his throat, but Hanzo knew he was lying. Staying in this shack wouldn't save him, but he needed to come up with some plan to keep his fiance safe. “Jesse, I can give them anything,” Hanzo offered in a last ditch effort. These people knew that, recognizing his name and all. But he would only become a hostage again until his family could pay up. And who was to say they would free him after getting what they wanted. But Hanzo couldn't stand seeing Jesse in danger.

“I got everything I need from you,” Jesse repeated with narrowed, dark eyes. He let his tongue slide against his bottom lip, wincing as the man dug the tip of the knife deeper into his abdomen. “Leave.”

“You heard the boy,” the man with the gun smirked, nodding his head towards the outside. He cocked his gun, the metallic click bearing into the side of his neck. “He don't need you anymore.”

Hanzo stumbled away without hesitance, dragging his busted leg through the snow. The pain burned through his calf and each step only amplified how weak he had become. His left leg already numb, right becoming close in the thick snow coating the ground. But he had to get out of the forest, he had to get help. Cell phone back in the shack, blocked by a gang of ruthless thugs. Who knew how many more gathered in the brush. Watching his every move as he tumbled through dark trees and dead branches with nothing but his pants on. He looked back for a moment, Jesse's form visible from the soft glow of the inside of the shack. Held down on the floor by the other thugs.

His pace slowed and he swallowed, knowing that if he didn't run soon, they would turn to chase him as well. If they weren't already creeping after him through the darkness. Jesse told him to run, told him to get out of here. He didn't need him anymore. But Jesse was lying, Hanzo knew that.

Unfortunately, it looked like they knew that, too.

Before Hanzo tore his attention away, he watched one of the men grab Jesse's left arm tight. He inspected the shiny black band over his ring finger. The one that matched his own, but with shimmering topaz. Bright like a beautiful sunset, like the dazzling honey in his sweet eyes. The band, a loop of eternity, binding them together in a loving promise. The promise they they would take care of one another. The promise of never leaving the other behind.

A promise Hanzo broke without hesitation.

The other man drew the knife from Jesse's stomach, pulling his arm back. In one swift movement, it sliced clean through Jesse's arm. Blood splattered onto the ground, staining what remained clean on the old wood. Hanzo's legs finally gave way and he fell against his back and broken finger. The scream, the blood curdling, piercing scream rang out from Jesse's throat. It resonated in Hanzo's soul, building an unwelcome home in his chest. What was he doing? Why was he letting this happen to his lover? He should be back in that shack protecting him, but he was cowering in the snow. Jesse would never leave him like this.

Hanzo raced through the brush as fast as his injured leg could carry him, towards the marker at the cold creek. He glanced down at the iced over waters, then right where the creek stretched towards the edge of the woods. Miles of trees, dead bushes, fresh snow ahead of him, and he was losing so much blood. His frost bitten feet ached. He couldn't feel his fingers. He hobbled forward regardless, the screaming still persistent behind him. No matter how far he grew, Jesse's voice remained strong.

He shifted towards the right, eyes intent on the dark edge of the forest. Turning back to fight was useless now. He couldn't do much with his body in this shape. He needed to run, to escape the forest, and find help. A gun shot sounded throughout the trees. Another sharp burst into his leg, the time his right, and he tumbled forward in the cold creek below. He crashed into the surface of ice, the frozen water snapping around his weight. He couldn't move, cold creek water beneath the surface ripping into his skin. His fingers trembled, frigid within the perilous depths. He clawed at the ice, legs useless in the stream.

With a sharp breath, he inhaled a mouth full of creek water, sputtering out the cold through his nose. This was it. He would die here. Alone, cold, and broken.

Accepting defeat, Hanzo's body stilled from both lost hope and trembling cold. The blood from his legs trickled with the water that flowed around him and he stared up into the sky. At the sparkling moonlight that danced through the naked branches of tress. Cold filling his lungs, screams still persistent in his ears. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled at the ruckus. And he laid alone, unable to feel his legs. Unable to feel much at all anymore.

With what little strength that remained, he folded his hands over his aching chest. Fingers cold, numb from the freezing snow and water. He twisted the black band around his left ring finger, although it pained him to do so. A silent comfort in the deafening panic. A promise. Although it meant nothing without his partner's matching ring.

And then there was silence.

He was alone, kneeling in the middle of the forest. His current self, long graying hair tied back in that golden sash. Blue robe, missing left leg. A spirit, a ghost. Still twirling his engagement ring. Kneeling into the warmer earth, cracked branches and fallen leaves surrounding him. He was alone. Jesse was gone.

The water trickled with the current below him, ice melted in the warmth of the current time. Although he was safe from the water's depth, he still felt as though he were drowning. Coughing, sputtering up the remaining chill of his memory. His fingers still spun the ring around his finger. Except it wouldn't spin, stuck in place against his spirited appendages. “Jesse,” he muttered, staring down at the warm dirty around his knees. His voice quiet, exhausted, choking on imaginary cold. Those thugs could be anywhere, watching him, waiting for him to get back up towards the edge of the forest. But that was his memory. By now, they were all dead or in jail. Clearing his throat, he looked behind him towards the shack. The door hung open, revealing the dark emptiness inside. Jesse was gone. “Jesse?” he called out, a little louder now, through a gurgled moan as he pushed himself to his feet. An animal scattered nearby, disappearing into the brush. “Jesse!”

No answer. No one in sight. He stood in the middle of his path, staring towards the edge of the forest that blended into darkness. Alone, as he deserved to be. Whatever reason Jesse had for leaving him for ten months after the car accident didn't seem as bad now. Hanzo left him when he needed it the most. He should have stayed in that shack, he should have fought back. But he didn't. And now he was alone.

Hanzo made it back home on his own. Without anyone to guide him with a gentle hand. No stories of past places of importance. He passed the bar. Full of unfamiliar faces, drinking with friends, drowning out mistakes. An art gallery where Genji once hung his art during their college years. He had not shown his photographs in years. Hanzo avoided looking into windows as he passed. There was nothing to look at. He had no reflection, and Jesse was no longer by his side.

He stood before the door of his apartment, staring down at the locked handle. He wouldn't be able to open it on his own. He needed help ever since Jesse came back. Jesse could be inside, sleeping in their bedroom. Letting Hanzo sit with the memory boiling in his mind, reflecting on what he had done. No amount of apologies would make up for a missing limb. He should have known he wouldn't make it out of that forest the way he was. And fighting back could have resulted in their deaths. But to leave his fiance like that. After he promised to take care of him. Hanzo swallowed, leaning forward to press his forehead into the door from frustration. But he jolted forward in surprise when his body shifted through, as he had been in those ten months without Jesse.

He stumbled into the darkened living room, television flickering with late night infomercials. His brother asleep on the couch, cuddled into the body of the man beneath the bridge. The two wrapped in a fleece blanket, the most peaceful Hanzo had seen his brother in months. He wandered past them towards his own bedroom,t he door hung open in darkness. A little moonlight pooled in from the parted curtains, but the room was otherwise empty. Lonely. Sad. The little details he once knew gone. His desk free of items, figurines cleaned from the windowsill. The lamp shut off, bed made. Everything in place as it had been for months. As if a single soul had not resided here since the accident. He sighed, turning back towards the living room.

“Genji,” he muttered to his brother, mind full of new questions about the first accident. He knew well that Genji would not answer him, seeing as he was not there for the accident. But he had to be for the aftermath. For now, though, Hanzo wanted his brother to move to his bedroom. Where it would be more peaceful for the two to sleep. But his brother did not move, deep in dreamland. “Genji,” Hanzo muttered again, reaching out to brush his brother's shoulder. Touch escape him and his fingers passed through flesh as if he were nothing. Only a spirit again. Being able to touch Jesse these past few days spoiled him into believing he was no spirit. His live body still laid in the hospital on the brink of death.

Hanzo withdrew his hand, a long sigh escaping his lips. Everything was back to the way it had been. The apartment dull, his spark of love and memories dissolved into darkness. He stared at the pictures on the wall, the faces blurred again. He remembered Jesse, he remembered the forest. The accident, the man, the bullets, and the creek. But the good memories were starting to fade and he too tired to grasp them. Genji stirred beneath him with a sleep groan, wiping tired drool away with the back of his hand. He at first looked up at Hanzo, but it was clear he was looking past him at the flickering television. “Genji,” Hanzo pressed again, but his brother didn't notice him standing there.

Genji outstretched his arm, pressing the button on the remote to shut off the television. “Zen, let's go to my room,” he muttered, trying to free them both from the confines of the fleece blanket. Hanzo stood in his spot, waiting for his brother's attention, but it never came. The two men shuffled form the couch, straight through his body, and on towards the bedroom. A chill swept his soul and he was alone once more to dwell in his thoughts. 

Genji could not see him now, could not hear him? It was late. There was a person over. But this person knew about Hanzo being a spirit per the conversation under the bridge. Why would Genji put up an act now? Hanzo stared at the pictures strewn on the wall, trying to find the man's face in them. To pick out the familiarity and why his brother trusted him so. Life had been lonesome with only a spirit to talk to for months. Although troubling his thoughts, who his brother mingled with was not the worst issue right now.

The chill built up in his chest as he wandered back into his lonely bedroom. His limbs cold and rigid, as though he were swimming through the frozen creek. He stared at the bed, the comforter flattened perfect atop the mattress. Not a single wrinkle to show their bodies once laid there. His sketchbook and incense absent from the dresser top. The only thing that remained of this room was the sash in his hair. He reached up to play with the end of it, but it laid dead down the center of his back. He could not grasp it. He could not grab anything. Hanzo coughed, ice gathering in his lungs.

As he had done many nights before, Hanzo took a seat in the center of his bedroom. Drawing his knees towards his body, one prosthetic leg, one missing from the knee down. With each pull towards his body, he trembled at the memory of a gunshot. Piercing his calf, bleeding onto the floor. Slicing through his other leg, throwing him into the creek. He stared towards the ceiling, expecting to see the stars in his memories, but there was nothing. A little trickle of moonlight from the window surrounded in lonely darkness. Lonely, cold darkness flooding around his body, pouring into his heart.

He waited all night in a swirl of thoughts for Jesse to return, but his lover never did. Hanzo considered leaving to search for him, but he didn't know where to begin. They shared memories in so many places, and Hanzo could not cross the bridge to the hospital. He would only be searching in circles. So he sat in his bedroom and waited. Gathering up all the words, broken apologies meant for long before. Hanzo left him. It was only appropriate that Jesse should do the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M NOT A VERY NICE PERSON I'M SO SORRY I REALLY DO LOVE OUR BOYS I DO I PROMISE :D
> 
> Also sorry that this chapter is much shorter than the others, but if I continued on, it would have been a very very VERY large chapter as there wouldn't have been an appropriate breaking point in the near future.
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading, and sorry again for whatever heartbreak I continue to cause. In all seriousness, you guys have been amazing and make me feel really awesome about writing this... <3


	10. Chapter 10

Memories returned piece by piece as Hanzo sat in the quiet of his empty room. Dust coated the dresser top and he began to wonder if anything had ever been there at all. The sketchbook, the incense, the little figurines lining the window. Images pulled from the depths of his brain to make him feel at home. He stared at the sliver of sunlight pouring into his room, dust catching in the morning ray.

He remembered everything after the first accident. The two never had a place of their own, still living with his brother after the encounter in the forest. Hanzo changed, forever guilty. Unable to harbor the guilt, he grew quiet. Distant. The two were always on edge. Jesse never turned in his old crew, knowing there were others out there who would come for them. Hanzo kept quiet also, which only angered his family. He stopped drawing, stopped leaving the house. Jesse disappeared most nights. Genji stayed home more often to keep the peace. A tense situation he never should have involved himself in.

The memories ended shortly after, Hanzo forgetting everything right before the car accident. The more he tried to drag up the cause that led him to the bridge, the more his head ached. Sitting here would get him nowhere. He needed to find Jesse, even if he wasn't sure where to look. Genji could know. He stood from his bedroom floor, stumbling towards the bright sunlight in the living room. He could hear chatter, calm and quiet alongside the buzz of the television.

Genji sat at the edge of the couch, feet propped in the lap of the other man. Zen, an affectionate shortening of a name Hanzo did not remember. “Good morning,” Hanzo greeted his brother, deep with his head lowered. He waiting on a response, seeing that his brother was more awake than the night before. But Genji said nothing, lips on the edge of the tea cup as he sipped the warm beverage. He prepared two cups of tea, as he did every morning. Except today he had someone to share them with. He didn't even look Hanzo's way. More concerned with the steam billowing from his cup.

“His health is declining,” Genji spoke, tone quiet, spiritless. Zenyatta nodded his head, legs folded on the couch, palms cradling the warm tea cup. He stared down into the bottom of the cup, eyes trailing the steam that danced along the surface. Hanzo lingered on the edge of the living room, unsure if Genji were ignoring him or could not see him. He remained quiet, taking in the information about his dormant body. “We're losing him. But my family refuses to give up.”

As Hanzo had been saying all along. But when he said it, Genji ignored it. After this long, they were still holding on. Holding on to the empty shell of a man they once knew so well. He felt hopeless, lingering the quiet hallway of his home. His brother's home. Jesse's home... He looked towards the kitchen, then the front door, shutting his eyes when his lover did not appear. Where had he been in the past ten months? “What have the doctors said about his prognosis?” Zenyatta questioned after a gentle sip of tea, letting his arms rest atop Genji's legs. The two fit so well together on the couch. Although is brother was suffering, Hanzo was happy to see someone calm Genji's soul. Even if for a moment.

“Not good. A lot of irreversible damage has already happened. He has a chance, but... we're running out of time.” Genji blew the steam away from the top of his cup, staring towards the kitchen. Hanzo watched his trail of sight, waiting for it to catch on his body. But it never did. His brother looked right through him,as if he had never been there. Confirming his suspicions, Genji muttered, “I have not seen my brother in days. Not since Jesse came back around...”

“And Jesse?”

“I have not seen him either.” So his brother did not know of Jesse's whereabouts either. But his brother at least had some way to contact him. That's how he drug him back here after those ten long months without him. Hanzo stepped before the couch, waving his arms about to draw attention. But neither of them moved, lost in one another, drowning their conversation with tea.

“I know you do not like to hear this,” Zenyatta began despite Hanzo's frantic waving. The man threw his arms at his side with a loud huff, wanting to kick the coffee table behind him to stir their attention. But when he tried, of course, it was to no avail. Touch was no longer in his capacity. He was nothing.

He watched Zenyatta reach out and squeeze Genji's thigh above the knee. Gentle, a quiet comfort, a warm hand. Support his brother needed in this time. “it may be time to let your brother go.” Offer words of advice that Genji would never take from his spirited brother. Hanzo swallowed, bowing his head. What he had been telling him for all these months.

“Zenyatta,” Genji groaned, throwing his head back a bit. He looked towards the ceiling, then over the string of pictures on the wall. Hanzo could see the dampness welling in his eyes and he his it with the back of his hand. “He is so important.” Zenyatta placed his cup against the coffee table and scooted his body closer. His hand trailed along Genji's arm in silent comfort. “He is so important to me, to my family...”

To Jesse. He was important to Jesse, right? Because they used to make each other so happy. Genji did not continue his words, shutting his eyes tight. Back of his hand wet with brimming tears. “I understand,” Zenyatta said, voice calm as the sun filtering into the living room. “As important as he is, does it seem fair to let him continue living like this? For you, for your family?”

For Jesse?

A cloud passed over the sun outside and the living room fell a few shades darker. He stared at his brother with a heavy heart, unable to watch the pain anymore. As he turned to disappear back into his room, he saw him there. Jesse, standing on the other end of the living room. Misery laced in his features, arms thrown in defense at his side. “Jesse?” he questioned, stepping forward to approach him.

But another man stumbled in his way, throwing out an accusatory finger. Another man... him. It was him. Long graying hair hanging around his angry features. The same blue robe, hugged tight around his body with one hand, the other braced against the wall over the couch. Genji and Zenyatta disappeared, the living room falling into a stormy darkness. The two yelled between one another, the words blown over by heavy winds and rain. Hanzo shuddered, stepping back to watch the scene unfold. Was this a memory? But he never saw him like this in memories.

He tried to focus on their words, but the storm raged around him. Like the one on the bridge that threatened to tear him apart. The one that dragged him back to the past in the shack. All their words, whipped away in curtains of rain and violent winds. Spatters of distasteful phrases rolling between them like thunder.

Blame. Hanzo yelled. Fault.

Jesse scoffed. Stupid.

Dangerous.

Hanzo watched, confused at the vision of the fight fading in and out within the living room. Glitching, like a faulty computer program. Zipping to various parts of the room. Violent words, forceful hands. The screaming, the blaming. Until Jesse stopped, wrapping his hands around the chain dangling from his neck. He gripped the ring, snapping the gold chain. “Your family is right.” His voice heavy, disappointed as he held the broken promise in his palm.

Hanzo grasped the ring around his own finger out of instinct, although he could not feel it. Could not spin it for comfort. Only stare at it, in it's faded luster against his pale hand. The midnight stones a dull reminder of what he threw away.

The vision of himself stood tall in defense on uneven legs, narrowed dark eyes. His words cut through the storm as sharp as the blade that removed Jesse's arm. “They are.”

Jesse clenched his fist before throwing down the ring. The chain and ring crashed onto the table. Hanzo jolted when Genji set his tea cup against the surface, aiding the chain's crash with a clink of ceramic. The stormy night shifted to day and he stood in the living room. Only Genji and Zenyatta occupied the space, talking among themselves. The memory ended and his body felt numb. Why would he say that?

“I'm sorry,” he breathed to himself, pressing the back of his hand against his mouth. He wished to feel the cold metal of the ring against his lips, but felt nothing. Nothing but pain dwelling in the depths of his chest. Yearning for his lover's touch against. To take everything back. Leaving him in the shack. The harsh words he heard only seconds ago. Blaming him for his ten month absence. He wanted Jesse here. He couldn't stand to be a spirit any longer.

A crack of lightening cut through the brightness of the day, morphing the room into darkness. Rain pounded against the windows and Jesse flashed in the open apartment doorway. “Jesse!” Hanzo yelled, stumbling forward as his lover escaped towards the front yard. As with every time he tried to leave the apartment, winds raged around him, trying to hold him in place. But he was too upset, too distraught to let the storm catch him this time. He needed to be with his partner. He needed to apologize. He needed him.

He drug himself through the powerful winds. The more he ran, the less her recognized his surroundings. Buildings disappeared in the whirlwind of darkness, but he could see Jesse's form a mile ahead of him. Walking, shoulders forward, body heavy, defeated. Despite his slow pace, he remained the same distance away, regardless of how hard Hanzo pushed. “Jesse, stop!” Hanzo yelled, but his voice carried away with the storm, drowned out by the plethora of sounds.

The rain, heavy and harsh, drumming into the pavement around him. A phone that never stopped ringing. The tone of a powerful drill in the back of his mind. Jesse's voicemail, a slice of southern comfort that broke his heart each time he heard it again. His own words, full of apologies and love. He didn't mean it. He was sorry. He loved him so much. Please come back.

His heart hurt, thumping hard against his rib cage. It felt like walking into a hurricane, each step forward resulting in a slide back. Ahead, Jesse's form continued to fade in and out of view. Each time he reappeared, he only seemed miles further away. “Jesse, please!” Hanzo continued to holler, despite his voice drowned in the wind. “I'm sorry!”

Brief daylight flooded the area and he noticed the bridge leading to the hospital. If Jesse got too far ahead, he would have to stop chasing him. He couldn't cross the bridge, especially alone, and then Jesse would go where he could not follow. He clenched his hand over his heart, forcing his body forward through the rain flooding back in. The shift from day to night, storm to not stirred his brain. He couldn't tell if this were a memory trying to break his skull, or the storm holding him back. His breath built heavy in his chest and his body grew weak. But he couldn't give up. He needed to reach him.

Hanzo raced to the edge of the bridge, the hospital looming in the distance. The storm did not let up, and he pushed through one slippery step after another. His attention focused on Jesse, who now stood on the railing of the bridge. Glaring down into the perilous waters below. The cars chugging by paid no mind, more in tune to the stormy rains that sloshed onto the bridge. “Jesse, please!” Hanzo called out again, afraid his lover may slip. He darted to the side to avoid a car coming his way before reminding himself that it would do no damage. He was only a spirit. Jesse was the one in danger here. “Please come down from there!”

Jesse swallowed, hand along the support beam as he stared down into the water. Wearing the same thing he had for days. The soaked blue plaid button up, blue jeans with the hems frayed around his dirty cowboy boots. The only thing missing was that gold chain that dangled from his neck. Now in shambles against his living room coffee table. Hanzo brought his hand to his lips as he pushed through the storm holding him back, kissing the curve of his ring. “Jesse, please, what are you doing?” His voice drowned in heavy rain and roaring engines of passing cars.

The once bright sun of the early afternoon disappeared completely. Darkness shrouded the bridge, Jesse's form only visible through brief headlights scattering by. Only a few feet from his reach now. “Jesse!” But his partner would not look, occupied with the swirling waters below. He let a foot drop down towards the pavement, attention still on the river. A pair of harsh headlights illuminated the bridge behind them as Jesse let his other foot hit he road. “What are you doing?” Hanzo repeated, knowing the car was coming straight for both of them. “Get out of the road!”

Jesse turned, facing his lover with tired eyes. Guilt wringing his brows. Rain pouring down his rugged features, masking the despair. “Jesse!” Hanzo hollered one last time, bolting forward through the storm to push to his lover. His hand almost within reach, fingers inches away. The wind carrying him back, threatening to rip him from the bridge.

The headlights drew nearer as Hanzo threw his hands around his partner's shoulders. But when his fingers made contact, he pummeled through empty air. Jesse vanished as quick as he appeared and Hanzo stared into his open arms. The light poured on the bridge around him and he turned towards the oncoming car. A familiar face speeding straight towards him. The blinding light burned into his brain and he stood lifeless, waiting for the car. Everything rushed back to him.

Watching Jesse run out the door after he threw down his ring. Hanzo snatched it up, trying to follow as quick as he could. He settled on one prosthetic leg to catch up with his partner. The rain fell heavy around him, the road was so hard to see. He kept calling, the anger replaced with sadness and guilt each time he heard Jesse's voice mail again. He wouldn't pick up. Jesse always picked up.

He raced past all the familiar spots with no luck. Jesse's truck sat broken down in their parking lot. How could he have gotten so far on foot? But Hanzo kept driving, his brain so distraught they he hardly paid attention to the road. Only the consistent dial tone and Jesse's drawl on the voice mail. He left message after message. At first short and angry, demanding he pick up the phone. Then longer, apologies, confessions of love. He was sorry. He didn't mean it. Please pick up the phone. I love you.

The bright headlights blanked out as Hanzo came face to face with the man behind the wheel. Himself. Dark eyes, widened in surprise, hand on the phone against his ear. The squealing of the brakes surrounded him and Hanzo stood, arms trembling in front of him. The car swerved straight through his body, his spirit form, crashing into the guard rail. He was fine as a spirit, unharmed by the car. But as for the person who once stood there...

Hanzo stood in the center of the road, hands hung limp at his side. Daylight returned to the bridge, the rain of the past dried on the pavement. His own car gone, pulled from the road ten months ago. He could see the cars coming, but didn't feel them as they passed through his body. No pain, nothing. A gust of wind and scattered glass against the ground. He stared at the broken guard rail, the piece of ripped caution tape. The black mark on the road. Busted windshield. The accident that put him in a coma was the accident that killed his partner.

Jesse was dead.

Hanzo lingered in the road for a while. Cars flicked through him, but he didn't get out of the way. Minutes passed and he couldn't bring his body to move. He wished one of the cars would drag him from this nightmare. He killed him. After all this time of Jesse trying to bring him back, he was dead. A spirit himself. An actual ghost. And Hanzo blamed him for his absence. He released the breath he didn't realize he was holding, aware of a faint whistle from the waters below. A sweet tune, familiar. Growing louder. A come hither that used to soothe him. Jesse was calling for him.

Hanzo stumbled towards the side of the bridge, to the underpass where he once found his brother. Unlit candles decorated the grass, pictures strung against the concrete foundation. Flowers in an array of colors, burned incense. In the center of the, Jesse sat with his head back against the wall. Watching the glimmering reflection of river water against the underside of the bridge. Black band pressed into his lips as he whistled towards the water.

“You're dead?” Hanzo mumbled, the words crippled in his throat. Jesse nodded his head, still staring at the reflected lights on the bridge. “You died...”

“That's why I couldn't come see ya.” For a while, the two lingered in silence. Jesse tapping the ring against his lips, Hanzo staring at him. It made sense. Hanzo could not leave his apartment for months, and he still had a chance of living. Jesse, he was a ghost. No longer of this world. His body laid to rest somewhere that Hanzo wasn't even aware of. And Hanzo blamed him for it. Blamed him for being gone, when this was all his fault to begin with.

Sinking to his knees, Hanzo came to rest in the grass beside his partner. He leaned back into the underpass, the firmness of the wall bearing into his shoulders. Things within his touch again now that he was alongside his lover. “It took me months to figure out what I was,” Jesse muttered, his low voice meshing with the gentle river below. With the rain behind them, the winds dulled, everything fell calm. Except Hanzo's heart. “And... what happened. I kept telling myself I needed to find you. Kept wanderin'... but I always ended up right back here. But never past here.”

“I killed you.”

Jesse let a sigh spread over the curve of his engagement ring before letting it fall from his lips. It slid over the kink in the chain, landing in the center of his collar bones, along the edge of his unbuttoned shirt. Comfortable, familiar, closer to his heart. “It wasn't your fault.”

“I hit you with my car, Jesse, I killed you!”

Jesse let his chin drop, staring into the waters coursing below. Hanzo's entire body trembling, taking in the realization of what he had done. Of everything he had done. Leaving him alone in that forest. Letting the bandits take his lover's arm. Yelling at him in their apartment. Uttering those terrible words. Sliding into him with their car. Killing him. Hanzo killed him. It was his fault. This was all his fault.

Hanzo deserved the life he led now.

“I did this to you... I did this to you, and yet you came back to me. And tried to help me...” Hanzo stared down at his shaking fingers, remembering his grip on the steering wheel. The anxiety that built in his stomach, the rain pouring into the windshield. Jesse's voice mail, over and over. He didn't mean it. He loved him. Please pick up.

After ten months of feeling nothing, he felt everything.

He cried. Leaning his head forward, he buried his face into his hands and cried. Hot tears welling in his eyes, pooling in his palms. The sting of despair tingling in his cheeks. Body trembling, breath short. He did this. This was all his fault.

Jesse leaned over and pressed a firm kiss into the side of Hanzo's temple, holding there as his lover sobbed. He said nothing, knowing that words at this second would not soothe him. Jesse hit this realization months ago. He had his time to break down. Kiss after sweet kiss, over trembling fingers, against leaking tears. It was only now that Hanzo realized how cold touch felt. He had tricked himself into believe it was the warmth of a living, breathing person. Dragged up heat from his memories like a flame burning the last of a candle. Like him, Jesse was a spirit. A ghost. A gust of wind if he tried hard enough.

Unlike him, Jesse didn't have a chance at life again.

And yet here he was, fighting to bring Hanzo back.

“I love you,” Jesse muttered as soft as the waters trickling below. His voice only a whisper over the running stream. But Hanzo heard him loud and clear, and the words burned in the depths of his soul. He didn't mean it. He loved him. Please come back...

“But why?!” Hanzo shouted through his fingers, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hands. The sobs subdued, but his body still ached in recollection of his past. All the blissful memories a shroud covering the dangerous things he caused. Every sweet piece of his past, shelter from the inevitable heartbreak by his hands. "What is there about me to love? How could you love a person who killed you?”

“Hanzo, it was an accident!” Jesse's voice did not carry through the underpass. But it resonated through Hanzo's body like thunder. He paused, body stiff, hands cradled before his face. Palms catching what tears still fell from his eyes. His skin burned, and he couldn't think straight. Not on his own. “I'm not an idiot, you didn't mean to kill me. I shouldn't have been runnin'.”

“But you had the right to, I-”

Jesse reached out, taking Hanzo's trembling fingers within his own. Hanzo admired the sleek metal limbs complimenting his engagement ring. Cold to the touch, but welcomed more than ever. Reflections of light against the metal arm a figment from his memory. The sun didn't warm Jesse's body anymore. “Stop,” his fiance hushed him in a low grumble, drawing Hanzo's fingers to his lips. “I've got plenty of reasons to love you. Remember, I said you saved my life.”

Hanzo narrowed his eyes, shaking his head side to side. But his movement halted when Jesse's hands traveled from his own to his cheeks. Stilling him, calming him with gentle touch. Cold, but soothing. Numbing, almost. “I was in a real bad place when I met you... and if I hadn't met you, I'd be long gone much sooner than this. Remember, you saved me.”

Hanzo reached out to run his fingers along the gold chain dangling from his lover's neck. He remembered the weight of it in his palm as he clenched the steering wheel. The chain curved around his fingers, clinking against the metal of his own band. He twisted the kink between his fingers, expecting it to crumble from his neck. But it didn't, intact around Jesse's neck. In death, the chain unbreakable. The symbol of promise hanging over his chest, closest to his heart. Hanzo studied it, unable to bring himself to look Jesse in the eye. Afraid of the pain he may see there. “You took me in knowing I was dangerous,” Jesse continued with his palms holding his lover's face. The more his fingers lingered, the hotter they became. Hanzo sighed at their warmth, knowing it was a memory. A touch of what they used to be. The comfort he knew from his past. “You took care of me, even though others said I wasn't worth it. I could have gotten you killed...”

“I left you to die,” Hanzo muttered.

“Hanzo.” One final hushed warning before he cautioned him with his lips instead. A slow kiss, gentle, full lips. Along his jaw, below his eye, corner of his lips. Kiss after sweet kiss, calming and warm. As he remembered. “That's behind us now. We're done with memories... we need to worry about what comes next now.”

Hanzo let his eyes meet his lovers, bearing his forehead into his. He rested like that for a moment, catching his uneven breath. They had come so far. He remembered so much. He felt as though giving in to such fragile emotion was unlike himself. Regardless of their tattered past, Jesse was still here. Jesse still fought to bring him back. “You're right,” he breathed, letting another warm kiss grace his lips. “I need to see my body.”

“You are coming with me.” His question presented as an answer and Jesse bit down on his lip. Now he was the one unable to hold contact, instead focused on the beautiful features of his fiance's face. “We will cross together.”

The warmth in Jesse's fingertips dimmed and Hanzo moved himself closer to chase it. He let out an uneasy breath that chilled Hanzo's lips. “I can't, I told you I can't cross here.” Jesse watched the shimmering reflections that danced along the underside of the bridge. Rainbows of color, patches of glistening sunlight. Stealing his attention like an eager cat. Except he was keeping his eyes busy to avoid showing his fear. “I've tried so much, and I'm afraid one day it's gonna end me.”

“We will cross together,” Hanzo repeated, a gentle hand forcing Jesse to look back his way. “All this time I thought I was the burden. I was the reason we could not cross... but it is me who needs to help you now.” He traced the marks down his lover's face with his sure fingers. Outlining the edges of Jesse's tired eyes, down the scar across the side of his lip. Another story for another day. Should there come another day if they were not quick enough. “Genji says we are running out of time.”

“Then you need to go without me or not. I've gotten you this far, and I don't want to be the reason you stop, Hanzo,” Jesse warned. Not because he had given up. But because he didn't want his lover to. “I'll catch up with you. I always do.”

“We will cross together.” One last time. Stubborn, deep. Eyebrows knitted in frustration. His hand slid to the chain, the gold slithering against his own engagement band. The metal clinking together, the sound drawn from his memories. Familiar, close to his heart where it belonged. “We have gotten this far together... I will not leave you behind.”

Jesse chuckled beneath his breath, leaving another kiss along the side of Hanzo's jaw. He braced himself against the side of the bridge and finally came to stand. He instinctively brushed at the fabric of his jeans for dust, despite none gathering. “You always gotta be so stubborn,” he mused, outstretching a hand towards his lover. He helped Hanzo from the ground, one last moment of closeness before they crossed the bridge.

“But if it hurts,” Hanzo murmured, watching the way the reflections bounced off the concrete. “We stop.”

“Alright, darlin'.” Jesse rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand, never once letting his other go from Hanzo. “Lead the way...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, it's been a while. I apologize for the delay in updating. I lost the entire chapter twice and had to retype it, and also had a lot going on in the past few months. Holiday season is usually very busy, and I worked a ton. Also got myself a sweet girlfriend, and then coped with the death of a beloved idol. So there was a bit getting in my way of updating. But I've had a pretty awful past week, so I sat down and focused all my energy on updating. Because you guys deserve it. Because you're awesome. Terribly sorry readers, I'll be quicker next time I hope.
> 
> Anyway, I think the next chapter will be the last. Wrap everything up with a nice little bow, right?? Right...


	11. Chapter 11

They stood together staring across the bridge. Hands entwined, hearts unsteady. Hanzo focused on the hospital where he knew his body slept. Ten months of no recovery, only a steady decline. Where his family mourned his sad state. Flowers, cards, whispered blessings. Jesse stared, eyes blurred on places unfamiliar to him in the distance. “We will cross,” Hanzo muttered with uneasy steps forward, fingers tightening. Jesse followed much slower, apprehensive and scared. “Just think about our destination... not crossing. Where we're going.”

Hanzo remembered the staircase, staring into the open doorway of his apartment. How terrified he was to cross that barrier. He tried for months alone and couldn't make a step. But with Jesse guiding him by the hand, he made it. They ripped through the storm and pushed to the outside. Now it was his turn to support. He took another step, feeling the defiant tug on his hand when Jesse came to a halt.

“Hanzo,” Jesse muttered with an unusual catch in his throat. Although only a spirit, his form held strong, still in the center of the street. Cars zipped past them in the cheery bright of the afternoon, but wind did not catch his clothing. The beaming sunlight passed through his body, leaving only a dull reminder of who he used to be. “I don't think...”

“Think of our destination,” Hanzo muttered, glancing back at their locked hands. Fingers holding tight to imaginary warmth. Wrapped around one another, closer than any bond they shared before. “The hospital, we need to get to the hospital on the other side.”

“I've never been to the other side.” Another car swept by. The caution tape chased it, remaining glass tumbling against the concrete. A silence passed between them and Hanzo turned forward. His dark eyes narrowed on the tall hospital looming in the distance. A wandering soul such as Jesse would not stop at this bridge in his lifetime.

It seemed that Hanzo was not the only one who lost his memory.

Taking another cautious step forward, he turned his back towards the hospital. He reached out and took Jesse's other hand within his own. Unlike the apartment door, unlike the bridge before, he didn't feel the pull. The whirlwind that threatened to tear him apart. The only force he felt now was Jesse's defiance. “I can't go places I've never been before. I've tried,” Jesse grunted with uncommon defeat.

“I'm sure we have both been beyond this point together. I know we have.” He pulled together all the memories Jesse drug up since his return. All places before the bridge. Places they already passed. Nothing ahead of them. There had to be something.

Lowering his glance, Jesse shook his head. “We may have, but I don't remember.” He swallowed, looking up with intense eyes. Darkened by uncertainty. “If I can't remember, I can't go.”

Hanzo stepped back, still with both hands in his partner's, pulling his body towards him. The second Jesse let his foot even slide an inch forward, the struggle began. The clouds billowed overhead and Hanzo noticed the dramatic drop in temperature. The storm was coming, intent on keeping them on their side. Jesse only stared, lips parted, brows furrowed. It was clear that he was not looking towards their destination, like he implored Hanzo to do before. Because he already tried. He already tried to cross this bridge, and his spirit couldn't do it any longer. There was nothing for him on the other side. Nothing except the comatose body of his lover who he may not recognize anymore.

As Hanzo needed to for months, Jesse needed something to remember. A glimpse of the life he once held. A location, a face. A moment.

The clouds rolled in and the wind picked up, suffocating their inching bodies. The weight of their journey poured down against them. Hanzo's body drew closer to the ground with each slumbering step. He paced forward, almost dragging his leg, keeping a tight grip on Jesse's hand behind him. It was not Jesse keeping them in their place. It was whatever spiritual curse that did not want them to succeed. They built a future for one another, but fate kept a tricky tab to keep them apart. “Something beyond this bridge,” Hanzo thought to himself, thinking of only the hospital. There had to be more. But he could only remember what Jesse reminded him.

The party where they met, the blaring music. Red solo cup and lighter. His college parking lot, shrouded in peaceful fog and orange leaves. The bar, the forest. All places behind them, both in memories and location. Nothing ahead of them. Nothing waiting but his sad, quiet body.

Hanzo shook his head, curtains of rain shrouding his body as he lost sight of his lover. Although holding tight to his hand, he was losing him. The memories flickered in the back of his head as if the storm drowned them from his brain. He needed something. Something to pull Jesse to the other side besides his nervous strength. A reason for him to look forward that wasn't his body lying in the hospital.

Jesse needed a reason to come home.

Home. The apartment. No, they had bigger plans.

“The house.” They were about to close on a house. Right before the accident, they planned to move out. Settle down on their own without Genji around. But they never got the chance. Jesse did not look up, his face lost in a blurry of smoke and violent storms. As if he did not hear him. Hanzo squeezed his fingers, taking in a strong breath as the warmth dwindled from the tips. He had lost his grip on Jesse's metallic arm. “Jesse, the house!” Beyond the bridge, their home. Most likely occupied by another family. Someone who took their place when their bodies no longer could.

Hanzo shook his head. Misfortune would not help them cross the bridge. They planned a future together. He needed to remember their future.

“The house that we looked at... The small one. One story with a couple bedrooms,” Hanzo explained through the coursing wind. Jesse was almost out of reach a foot behind him, a shrouded figurine through the raging storm. Pain crept across Jesse's face, his metal arm detached from his body. A vision from the forest, blood pouring from the wound. Draining from the corners of his lips. Hanzo knew he was in pain. He felt it flee into his own body as he supported his lover through the danger. His legs numb, hearty emptying with the winds. But they couldn't give up. They were so close. “Small, but it had a yard. You remember that one?”

“No,” Jesse choked, shaking his head and wincing. An image like a nightmare, eyes darkened. He stumbled, but forward, letting out a harsh breath with a sputtering of blood. “Hanzo, I can't!”

“I didn't want that house!” Hanzo yelled, not in a way meant to demean or ignore him. But a way to remind him of the future they wanted together. “At first, I did not want it. But it had a yard, and you wanted a dog." Although in crippling pain, Jesse managed to lift his head. He peered through the dangerous rains, dark eyes narrowed. “And then that house seemed perfect.”

Jesse's entire body shivered, a shock so violent it carried from his hand down Hanzo's spine. A spark of remembrance? No, another burden to weigh them down. The pressure from the storm lowered them, Hanzo dropping to his knee. Everything around them turned dark and his chest burned. The same as it did the first time he tried crossing the apartment door with Jesse. “Hanzo,” Jesse breathed, and he remembered the struggle trying to leave the apartment. When they collapsed back inside. And Jesse seemed hurt. Out of breath, like he was now. Because he was in such terrible pain. Because he was dead, a ghost trying to cross. “Hanzo, I can't remember.”

“You can,” Hanzo grunted back, swallowing the deafening pain. Like blackness gathering in his stomach, billowing in his chest. He coughed, throat raspy, filled with violent smoke. He had to remember more. More beyond the bridge, beyond their destination. Beyond this hospital.

The hospital.

Jesse collapsed to his knees and Hanzo knew it would only be a little longer until either of them could hold on. But although his chest burned and his body trembled, he knew they were so close. Only a little closer now and they would reach the other side. “The hospital,” Hanzo breathed, pressing his hand against his lover's face. He ran his thumb against Jesse's bottom lip, smearing away the blood, bearing his forehead into his. Jesse shut his eyes tight for a moment, letting out a trembling sigh. “After the first accident, we were in the hospital. We were in separate wings.”

Jesse opened his eyes, aware of the winds swirling around them. More aware of the closeness of their lips. Their bodies crouched before one another in the center of the darkened street. His body ached, ripping to shreds. Torn in every direction and carried away with the strong currant of the raging river. But he focused with teeth bearing into his bleeding lip on his gorgeous lover before him. “They tried to keep me from you,” he choked out, gripping Hanzo's shoulder tight for support. Despite the storm threatening to tear them apart, he leaned all his weight towards him.

“They did, but you did not listen.” Hanzo let out a breath from a brimming, remorseful smirk. “You left your room, IV Fluids and all, and came to mine every second you could to sit by my side.”

Jesse swallowed, sharing the same smile. Pained, but thankful. “Nothing can keep me from you.”

Hanzo linked their fingers. Cold before but now filled with loving warmth. A fabricated memory, but how Hanzo always remembered his lover. Warm, comforting, like the setting sun. The only thing that kept his spirits high after the first accident. After the cold night spent lying on the creek, wondering if Jesse would ever forgive him. “You held my hand every night we were in the hospital.”

“Nothing will ever keep me from you, Hanzo.” Jesse shut his eyes and inhaled heavy through his nose. Squeezing his fingers around his lover's, he breathed. Hanzo could feel it warm against his lips.

Hanzo closed his eyes as well, his body numb from the raging storm. They couldn't give up. They had come so far. They were so close. “Nothing.”

“Not even death.”

Silence.

Hanzo opened his eyes. The sun hung high overhead, bearing down onto the warm concrete at their knees. They had crossed the bridge, now sitting along a patch of grass to the side of the road. The river ran calm near them, wind gone, only a light breeze through the trees now. Jesse's chest heaved, but he seemed at peace. No more pain, no more blood. “Not even in death,” Hanzo repeated, pressing his lips into his lover's. Slow, lingering warmth. Chasing away the hardships they once shared. Time and time again, and yet they always found each other.

Not even death could keep them apart.

For the first time since Jesse stepped foot back into his life, he thought about the aftermath. The uncertainty of seeing his body. Would seeing his body return him to life? Would coming back be worth it? Where would Jesse go? Questions he never thought to ask during all his curiosities. He stared at his lover as they collected themselves on the side of the road. Looking over every delicate line of Jesse's face. Every scar, wrinkle, inch of skin that he stared at for years. A face he would never tire of even if they had the chance to grow old together. What would happen to Jesse? “I love you,” he muttered, letting his lips lay across his lover's again.

Jesse smiled from the corner of his tired lips as he pulled away only centimeters from the kiss. “Love you, darlin'.” His voice fell raspy, tired. Relieved. He bowed his head, his disoriented body wavering against his partner's. A silent request that they take it easy before continuing to the hospital. Hanzo wrapped his arms around Jesse's shoulder, keeping his fiance close. Afraid to let him go. Holding on to the last potential moments they had together.

Hanzo sighed. If returning to his body meant never seeing this man again, he wasn't sure if he wanted to make it to the hospital.

With his chin rested on Jesse's shoulder, he stared towards their destination. Miles away now, so close to his body. He wasn't sure if seeing his body would even bring him back. It was all speculation. It seemed like the simple answer. See his body, return to life. “Jesse, I...” he began, a shudder in his voice before he shut his eyes. Where would Jesse go?

“Give me a second, darlin'... I'm tired.” Jesse eased into the embrace, eyes closed. Breath steady. Like he belonged, where he needed to stay. Hanzo's body trembled and he only strengthened his hold. Had Jesse thought about what happened once Hanzo found his body? It must have crossed his mind sometime during these ten months. “We're almost there, I only need a minute...”

Hanzo would take that minute and many more. Whatever kept his lover in his arms longer.

Despite Hanzo's apprehension, once Jesse felt well enough, they continued. Towards the hospital, Jesse's arm draped over his fiance for support. It was not an easy journey, but nothing quite as difficult as crossing the bridge. Jesse would stumble, lose his footing, and they would have to take a break. It wore on his spirited body, and it broke Hanzo's heart. “We're almost there,” Jesse would say.

“Let's turn back,” Hanzo wanted to say. But they were so close. It couldn't all be for nothing.

“Are you alright?” Hanzo mumbled as they stood before the main entrance to the hospital. With the frequent stops and their slow movement, night had settled in the town. But that did not stop the hospital from a constant state of disorder. Through the large doors, they could see bodies bustling back and forth. Nurses, doctors, families waiting on news for their loved ones. A busy place of sad stories and amazing recoveries. Hanzo's home for many months. A place they knew better than they realized.

“Fine, sugar.” Jesse straightened his body, his attention darting all around the glass doors. Over the reception desk. To the glimpse of people in the waiting room. Elevators, hallways. An endless maze to his lover. He swallowed and squeezed his hand tight. Clasping nervous fingers, twisting the black band around Hanzo's finger. “Are you alright?”

"I am... unsure.” He had waited ten months to step outside of his apartment. To hear and remember his past. To know how he ended up as this sad spirit locked in his apartment. Waiting to see his body, waiting to come back. But now that he knew, now that he was here. He did not know how to feel. For returning to his body didn't seem as hopeful as he imagined. 

Jesse brought Hanzo's hand to his lips, pressing his warm lips into his knuckle above the ring. He stared into the hospital, Hanzo glanced at him. Fear wrought Jesse's features, uncertainty dappled in his eyes. But most important, love. A sense of love dripped from his lips and spread warmth into his spirited fingers. With another slow kiss, he whispered, “Let's bring you home.” 

Home. Not the home they planned for. Not the home with the yard where their dog could run. Not the home where they would return after wedded bliss. Not the life they planned. 

Only the life Hanzo wasn't sure he wanted anymore. 

The two entered the hospital by sliding through the main doors into the busy lobby. Jesse's act of pushing open doors had only been a facade until now. With the time he spent as a ghost, he learned to move things at his will. There was no need to keep up the act any longer. He passed through desks, through people, peered into files. Found where they needed to go with little difficulty. A few floors up to the right. 

A quieter wing, full of resting patients. Those who would be moved or on their way out soon. Some that would never leave. They had been silent through these halls since entering the hospital. Hanzo thinking too much, Jesse seeming to think nothing at all. Nothing he would speak about, at least. “This is your room, I reckon,” he muttered as they came to a stop. 

Hanzo's heart fluttered. Ten months he waited for this. Ten months without his body. And now... 

Jesse pressed his hand against the hospital door, peering through the filtered glass. He could hear the monitor's faint beep inside, but otherwise, things were silent. Empty room except his slumbering lover. As he made an effort to slide through, Hanzo stopped him. “Wait, Jesse,” he breathed, staring at Jesse instead of the hospital bustle around them. He was not afraid to see his body. He was not afraid of what waited for him inside the room. 

He was afraid of what would happen to his partner. 

“Once I see my body...” he began as Jesse turned towards him. The man reached out, tucking long strands of graying hair out of Hanzo's face. “What will happen to you?” 

“Let's worry about that later,” Jesse smiled, the corners of his lips chasing a regretful thought. They quivered, as if hiding a secret. Hanzo did not care for secrets between them. They hadn't kept any for years. 

“If I am reunited with my body, and I wake...” He paused, choking down a swallow. “And I wake up without you...” 

“That's not important right now, sugar.” Hanzo could tell by the pull at the side of Jesse's eyes that he shared the same fear. Hanzo would return to his body and wake up without him. Lose sight of him, like every other person to walk the living earth. Forget his touch, never hear his voice. Continue his life without the one who brought the best of it. 

But being alive was better than standing beside the one he loved in death, right? “Jesse, I-” 

“We came this far. Can't give up, right?” Before he had a second to react, Jesse disappeared through the door. For a moment, he let go of his hand, leaving Hanzo standing in the quiet hallway. This was his last chance. Jesse was already on the inside, staring at what his form had become. Looking over his lover after the gruesome accident that tore them apart. 

He bowed his head. Jesse led him here. He wanted him alive. Despite his apprehension, he put his blind trust in him. As always. Hanzo closed his eyes and pushed through the firm wooden door. Swift as any time through his apartment. As easy as he had any wall since becoming a spirit. 

The beeping cluttered his thoughts and he stood still with his eyes closed. Jesse made no sound, and Hanzo waited. For a touch, for a breath. For anything other than the meticulous beating of his heart struggling to hold on. But Jesse said nothing. The room silent other than the beeping. Door blocking the commotion outside. His breath fell in rhythm with the tone, even though his thoughts grew chaotic. Ten months. Ten months he waited for this. 

Hanzo opened his eyes, a person from neither his memory or present lying before him. 

It was him, but in a way he had never seen himself. Like staring at a wax figurine, a poor reflection of himself strapped to wires and machines. Pasty skin, sunken features. Oxygen mask over his face, tubes from his lips. Not a part of him recognizable. This was not him. But it was. It was what he became in the ten months he struggled in that apartment. While his brain deteriorated inside his home, his body died here. 

Hanzo felt the anger building in his body, staring down at his lifeless form. The person lying in the hospital bed was not him. He had left long ago. This was a shell, clinging on for scraps of life no longer important to him. He did not belong here. He did not deserve to sit within the hospital walls, suffering through life support. He was only a burden to his family. “I don't want to be like this,” Hanzo muttered, staring down at the paled face of someone meant to be him. Like looking at an actual ghost. More of a spirit than what he had been in the past ten months. “I... this is not good.” 

“But now you can come back, yeah,” Jesse muttered from the foot of the bed. He said it with something like a smile, although apprehensive. Even he knew this was not the man he fell in love with. There was little resemblance between the man suffering in the bed, and his lover on the bedside. “You can get out of your coma now.” 

“Genji said there was a lot of irreversible damage.” Hanzo watched Jesse's hand trail the railing of the bed. His lover's fingers traced the edges of his body beneath the blanket. A sad hum vibrated behind his lips, and he tried to keep a smile. But the more he stared down at this stranger, the less he could hold it. He slid his hand forward, intent on interlocking his fingers with the body's. He hesitated, his hand wavering above the bed. Hanzo swallowed, continuing with, “It would be selfish.” 

“Selfish? For you to be alive?” Jesse's honey eyes widened as he watched the way Hanzo overlooked all the buttons and wires. As if a plan for escape were springing into his mind. “There is nothing selfish about living, Hanzo.” Jesse bit down at his lip, choking back the tremors threatening his body. They were not physical, not like the storm on the bridge. But emotional, ripping his heart from his body and throwing it on the bed along side his lover. He didn't like this any more than Hanzo did. “That's what we're here for, to bring you back.” 

“To bring me back, and then what? Have my family take care of me?” Hanzo's eyes searched the room, anywhere to avoid looking at his body. At the flowers, some of which had wilted. Cards in stacks offering condolences. Other tokens of luck and healing. From friends, from family. He thought of Genji, who already wasted so much of his time watching over him. Sitting in the apartment, talking to a spirit who offered him nothing. Passing up major events in his life, losing friendships. To take care of someone who may never recover. He couldn't keep doing this. “I am brain dead like this. Jesse, I do not want this life.” 

Jesse said nothing, letting his hand come to rest against the bed rail. The beeping passed between them, hammering louder with each tone. “We did all this to bring you back.” His voice no louder than the tone. Rugged, harsh, dropping from his lips like lead. “I said I would save your life... like you did mine.” 

“This is not a life.” Hanzo stared at his once hopeful lover, feeling their faith drain from the room. This was not the outcome they hoped for. Hanzo thought he would return to his body, and his life would continue out as normal. Return to his life, his home, his future. That was before he realized Jesse was dead. So then he would return his life with only half of himself. If even that. It didn't seem worth it. “This is not the future we planned.” 

Hanzo drew his attention away from his lover, unable to take the pain in his features. He instead brought his attention to the various wires connected to the body. The tube down his throat, the oxygen mask. IV, fluids, ventilator, every piece of machinery keeping him alive. Alive. This was no life. He didn't want this. He reached out towards the body, hand hovering over his face. “Hanzo, what are you doing?” Jesse swallowed, his body frozen at the side of the bed. He tried to grip the railing, but his unstable ghost form faded through. 

“I don't want this,” Hanzo breathed, feeling his breath catch in his throat. His hand began to tremble and he glanced over everything. His attention wouldn't settle. The more he laid eyes on the body, the more the anger built. This was not him. This had not been him in months. The only time he felt like himself since the accident... was when Jesse returned to him. “I can't live like this.” 

“Hanzo, no-” 

“I won't!” Hanzo screamed in a fit of rage, reaching out and snatching up a palm full of wires. Easier than any touch, driven by anger and the sheer will to end the life before him. He ripped the cords from the machine, the beeping coming to a sharp end. But only because of lost power. Elsewhere, somewhere outside the room, alarms sounded. 

“What are you doing?!” Jesse yelled, the opposite. Unable to grab anything. Unable to stop him. Only allowed to stand back and watch his lover destroy what they worked hard to find. Tearing down machines, ripping out cords. Pulling off the mask, each action with a violent scream. “Hanzo...” Jesse muttered, back stepping away from the bed. His body defeated, distorted. His heart breaking into pieces. 

Hanzo continued his reign of destruction until bodies flooded into the room. Oblivious to the angry spirit wrecking havoc, they clamored in panic, barking orders. Jesse watched the people scurry to find a reason that things went south, but Hanzo only stared at him. Because he did not care for his body. He did not care what happened to it now. Had not since he stepped into the room. “I will not live a life like this!” he screamed, thrusting his hand towards the gathering of people. “I will not live surrounded by people taking care of me with no hope!” 

Jesse backed up until he was on the opposite end of the room, crossing his arms over his stomach. He felt the urge to get sick watching his lover in danger again. He knew what Hanzo was saying was true. But he wanted him alive. He wanted him to be okay. To save him. “But what if it won't be like that?” 

“I will not live a life without you in it!” The chaos in the room zipped into silence. Bodies still hustled about, attempting to stabilize his comatose form. But there was no sound, a stretch of pure quiet between them. Jesse heard his statement loud and clear, pressing his left hand against his heart. The metal limb brushed against the gold chain hanging from his neck. For the first time since the accident, he felt his own heartbeat. Weighing heavy in his hand. The black band imprinted in his palm. Although he had not worn it for years, he remembered the way it circled his finger. 

“We built a life together, Jesse!” Although the room fell silent, Hanzo continued to scream, unable to control his anger. The staff detached his body from the remaining broken machinery and whisked it away. A trail of destruction laid in their wake. Hanzo threw up his hand, showing off the ring around his finger. “We made a promise to continue building!” 

“If your body dies,” Jesse breathed, hand still pressed firm into his chest. His heartbeat out of control, pumping in his palm. Breath caught in his throat, tears pulling at his eyes. “And you don't wake up...” 

Hanzo crossed the room, through damaged wires and discarded machinery. Other people flooded in to investigate the mess, but he ignored them. He passed straight through, instead throwing himself into the arms of the one he loved. The one who came back for him even after death. The one he killed in an accident, but still came looking for him. 

He threw his arms around him, hands tangling in messy hair. Pressing their bodies together, bringing warmth between their spirited forms. Jesse choked back a sob and returned the embrace, sealing every gap between them. Fingers digging into clothes, into skin, desperate and needy. Hanzo kissed him along the neck, on the underside of his jaw. Along the scar on Jesse's upper lip that he waited to hear the story of. On cheekbones, beside eyelids. Showering his lover in all the affection they missed in the ten months alone. Afraid to let go should he never get the chance again. 

“If I wake without you, it is not a life worth living.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know I said this was going to be the last chapter. Well, I lied. There's going to be one smaller bit after this one to officially wrap things up. That chapter was getting pretty long, and my brain was getting mighty tired. I'm also very sorry not sorry that I just keep breaking hearts. After this one's all over, I intend to write some things that are a little more cheerful and light hearted.
> 
> Thank you all for the continued support, the kudos, the comments, and everything. It means a lot to me each and every time.


	12. Chapter 12

Hanzo stood before the collage of familiar pictures. Faces from his past, times from his childhood and college years. A few more recent, after the initial accident. Tender moments Hanzo never noticed caught on camera because Genji kept them hidden. Arranged in small wooden frames, a timeline from the first time Genji picked up a camera to now. Friends, family. Names he remembered, places he knew.

The picture of him and Jesse sitting underneath that tree at campus. Hanzo staring down at his sketch book, pencil in hand as he listened to his lover's grand story. A story full of compassion and exaggerated hand movements. A cigarette threatening to fall from Jesse's lips as he raged on about some ridiculous tale. Only half true, but interesting all the same. Hanzo loved that story. This picture was his favorite.

To the left, his own drawings from college. Arranged in the same small wooden frames. Matched with his brother's photography. Pages taken from his sketch books. Nothing finished, but Genji thought these suited the gallery better. Showcased the effortless talent Hanzo practiced over the years. Faces, birds, dragons. Hands, smiles. Jesse's face on yellowed paper. The most beautiful works of art he never showed anyone.

"These are my favorite," Genji muttered, his voice echoing through the art gallery. He reached out and ran his fingers along the edge of the top frame. The pages of hands that first caught Jesse's attention. Careless doodles to pass the time, but impressive all the same. Hanzo never admitted it still to this day, but he had noticed Jesse staring during class. He would hide his work from others, but he kind of liked the way Jesse found his art more interesting than class.

It was mid day now, days after opening night of Genji's first show in years. Hanzo's first show ever. People passed by the big window outside, paying no mind to the two gathered within the gallery. "The line work is beautiful." Hanzo stared at his brother in silence, admiring the way his bright eyes danced over pages of his own work. Work he once kept private, out of reach of anyone but Jesse. Now on display for everyone to see, as it should have been many years ago. "Intimate, and loving... he had such a knack for drawing the things he loved." Genji's eyes settled on a page of Jesse's features. Smiles, scars, metallic limb. All drawn from memory and heart.

Hanzo's favorite work of art.

"Your brother was very talented," Zenyatta stated in a low melodic tone. He looked up from paperwork atop the little gallery table. Genji nodded, bowing his head before heading towards the table. His body shifted through Hanzo's as it always did. But this time, Hanzo did not feel the pain. There was no remorse as their forms collided and parted ways. For he knew his brother could no longer see him. He was no longer a burden. Only a treasured memory in his past.

"You ready to go, darlin'?" Jesse called from his spot in the corner of the gallery. He admired the sketches from afar, as he used to before they met. He had looked over them so many times in their years together that he could draw them from memory himself. But despite how many times Hanzo saw them, he loved to come back to look them over one last time. At his own work, at his brother's photographs. Some from their past, some new, with a different form of life he hadn't seen in his brother's work before. Relief flooded over him. His brother could finally continue life as he meant to.

"I am ready," Hanzo breathed, turning his attention away from the array of photos. A celebration of their life, through a camera lens and a steady hand. Though staring towards his brother, who made idle chit chat with the man at the table, he held his hand out for Jesse. The was the first time they entered the gallery while occupied. He was still getting used to life in this spirit world and feared his emotions causing a ruckus. But seeing his brother calmed his soul. Jesse pushed away from the corner and locked his fingers within his lover's. With a smile and a light kiss against his chin, he led them towards the door.

"He is fine, sugar," Jesse breathed with his lips hovering Hanzo's earlobe. "Everything is fine." Hanzo nodded, tightening his grip around his partner's hand, watching his brother. One day this would be his last visit, as even he was having trouble moving on. But the more he saw his brother's heart healing, the easier it became to walk away.

Of course, having his fiance by his side eased him most. Jesse picked up like they never skipped a beat. Rolling into an excited story his heart had been bursting to tell the whole day. "Passed by the bridge and saw a stray dog," he began, whisking the two towards the exit to the peaceful city street. "Big fluffy thing, you should have seen the paws on this baby."

"Jesse, you know dogs run from us. They don't like spirits," Hanzo interrupted, shaking his attention from his brother. His knowing, narrowing eyes instead focused on the light radiating from his lover. The excitement wrapped in those honey eyes. His hand outstretched towards the bridge some miles down the road. Once a burden to their bodies, now a familiar path on their daily walks. He smiled, bowing his head to hear the story.

"Yeah, but this one didn't, darlin'. Think it had... an accident. And we should definitely keep it." The two swept through the door into the cheery sunlight of the quiet town sidewalk. The door shifted open an inch, rattling the bell that hung in the frame. Jesse's voice trailed as he tried to convince his lover that they needed another dog spirit to follow. What harm would it do? It wasn't like they occupied much space. And every spirit, even small and furry, needed a place to call home.

Genji stood up straight from the table, staring at the bell above the closed door. He never noticed it open, but the bell chimed in his ear regardless. The wind outside? "I am happy that he is finally at rest." Genji looked up at his friend behind the welcome table of their art gallery.

Zenyatta smiled, pulling his pen away from his tablet. Warmth radiated from the corners of his closed eyes as he drew his attention outside. "I assure you that your brother is very happy also." Genji smiled, turning his back towards the work on the walls. Zenyatta stared outside, watching the spirited couple make way down the quiet street.

Hand in hand, side by side.

Even in death, never without the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this short epilogue, this finally concludes Ghost Stories! It's been a long journey, and although terrible, and sad, and I made so many people cry, I think this has been my favorite fic I've written to date. You have all been amazingly wonderful with the comments and the kudos and everything. I really love writing our boys, and I'm already halfway through two one shots (a lot lighter, I'm being nice), and then coming up with ideas for a full length fic. Again, thank you all so much for your support, you're wonderful and amazing and make me feel really loved. I hope you enjoyed it and stick around for whatever comes up in the future!


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